


Fuck Titles, We Have Robot Dick.

by ActualFlamingDumpster



Category: Steam Powered Giraffe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Alternate Universe - Mob, Alternate Universe - Robots & Androids, Alternate universe - Mafia, Criminal Masterminds, Double Agents, Eventual Smut, I asked the discord channel for help titling this so, I don't know what I'm doing, I mean we'll get to the robot fucking eventually, I should stop tagging this with robot fucking tags., I'm dragging the fuck outta this one, I'm sorry it's just that it's easier for me to write gender neutral in second person, Mafia AU, Other, POV Second Person, Robot Sex, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Thanks Guys, Thanks Scoots, Yeah I'm trying to write this as gender neutral as I can, apparently the tag didn't add, assassin reader, but afab reader, does that really count I mean theyre robots to begin with, hey in case yall didn't know I am trash for criminal underworld aus, idea from the thirst channel on the thirst discord, just throwing that in there since i made a note about it in chapter 8, legitimate use of yeet and yote, look what yall made me do, okay bye imma just yeet myself outta these tags now oof, robot fucking, the nsfw is afab and i gotta make sure this added because yee hoo, theres some ocs - Freeform, yeet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-03
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-04-18 00:20:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 36,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14200828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActualFlamingDumpster/pseuds/ActualFlamingDumpster
Summary: Reader is an assassin who is hired to take out the leader of The Syndicate, the largest criminal organisation in The City.Things take an unexpected turn when the leader is finally revealed and the job only gets more and more complicated. Why the hell did you agree to this again?





	1. Chapter 1

Sending a letter was old-fashioned, but you appreciated the gesture.

Your new client had slipped in an off-white envelope into your regular mail. This wasn't out of ordinary. All of your clients contacted you like this. You flipped through the rest of your regular mail before returning to your apartment.

Back inside the privacy of your home, you set aside your regular mail in favor of investigating your next job. Sitting on the couch, you tore open the envelope and withdrew the heavyweight paper that had been folded inside.

_Classy_ you thought, your mental voice drowned in sarcasm. They were trying, you had to give them that.

The letter detailed a request to meet in a warehouse down by the docks. You chuckled; it was always either warehouses by the docks or empty lots under bridges. The meeting was requested to be held at eleven pm in a week. Nodding, you allowed you eyes to trail down to the large swooping signature at the bottom, curious to know who your next client would be.

When you saw that it was the signature of one of the members of The Becile Family, however, you almost felt bad for judging his choice in paper and thinking that this would be another low ranking crime group.

The Beciles ran the second largest criminal organisation in The City. This was the first big job you had gotten in _months_ and the pay was certain to be huge. Your mouth pulled into a grin and your heart pounded. You were excited. You had a new client. All you had to do now was find out who your target was going to be.

 

 

The week dragged on and your anticipation only made the week feel longer. When the day finally arrived, you were bristling with excitement. You went about your day job quietly, mind occupied by thoughts of the meeting.

Night fell and eleven pm was finally rolling around. You always dressed well to meet your clients and tonight was certainly no exception. By ten-thirty you were already at the warehouse. It helped to make an impression when _you_ were waiting for _them_. Hands folded behind your back, you waited.

The car rolled up to the warehouse at a quarter to the hour. A man, accompanied by three bodyguards, entered the building to see you waiting for them at five till.

“You were here early. I suppose that is an admirable quality in your...line of work.” He said. You wanted to scoff at his high and mighty attitude, but you internalised it. You'd have plenty of time to laugh at him later.

“What can I say, I'm excited for a job.” You said instead, shining a friendly smile. The man returned with a smile of his own. He took a deep breath, looked down, and when he raised his eyes back to yours, you knew it was time to talk business.

“We want you to kill someone very important.” He said, chin raised and staring down his nose at you. You weren't sure why this was necessary. After all, killing important people wasn't an unusual request. You blinked, trying to encourage him to continue. Once again, he looked away and back to you before explaining.

“Tell me, you know about The Syndicate, right?” He said, cautiously. Your eyebrows raised. The Syndicate was the largest criminal organisation in The City, beating out The Beciles by a factor that no one knew, but had guessed to be at least three. They were huge and ran almost all of The City's criminal underworld. If the job involved them, the pay had better damn well be worth it.

He must've taken your silence and raised eyebrows as an affirmative, since he continued.

“I have to ask, before we continue, whether or not you have any affiliation with them.”

“No,” you responded firmly, “I don't.”

“Good. Because your target,” He paused here, inhaling. It was definitely for dramatic effect. “will be their leader.” he said, turning his eyes once again to yours.

Your eyes widened. Your breathing almost hitched.

“Sir, may I say, no one even knows who that is.” You had to be certain that he knew what he was asking. This job was practically a suicide mission.

“That will be part of your task. You'll need to find out and kill them. I can assure you that you will be paid extravagantly.” He emphasized extravagantly in a way that had you believing him, but you had to know.

“How much is extravagantly?” You asked. You needed this information. You had to be certain that it would be worth the risk.

“We believe that killing their leader will allow us to move in and assimilate their organisation into ours. Being that this operation is...of substantial importance to us...” He paused, moving in to whisper a number into your ear. Your eyes grew wide and your mouth dropped when you heard the exorbitant price they were willing to pay. It was enough to support you for decades to come even if you never got another contract again. In short, it was worth it.

“So. Will you take the job?” He asked. You took on a serious expression before responding.

“Yes.” Sure, the mission may very well be suicide, but it would also be worth it if you survived. The man smiled.

“Good. I will check in personally on your progress. We do have your address and your phone number. You may call me Roger. It's been a pleasure doing business with you.” He shook your hand, maintaining eye contact throughout. It was somewhere between threatening and smarmy, and you didn't like it one bit. He bid a farewell and left, followed by his men. You didn't leave for another ten minutes to make sure that the car had left and had gotten distance from you. Upon leaving, you thought about what had just happened.

You had a new contract. A big one. You doubted that simply killing the leader of The Syndicate would allow The Beciles to take over, but what did you care? You didn't. What mattered was that the payment was immense. Your employer was fishier than the sea, and you were certain 'Roger' was not his real name. His eye contact and handshake was terribly discomforting in ways you really did not want to think about, but none of this mattered either. What did matter was that you needed to find out who the leader of The Syndicate was and then all you had to do was plan the attack.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I know the chapters are short right now, but I do intend on them getting longer later on.

Discovering the identity of The Syndicate's leader was a hell of a lot easier said than done. Sure, you knew it wouldn't be a walk in the park, but honestly you weren't even certain where to start. You spent the next week trying to glean clues from your contacts but what little you had scrapped together had only deepened the mystery. According to a few of the dock workers, there were rumours of there being not one, but _three_ people in charge of running The Syndicate. You had no doubt that this was due to the organisation's sheer size; their domain was likely to have been divvied up between these three people. But even so, there had to be one primary leader. Someone had to take lead. Who that was, or which domain they controlled to at least narrow your search, however, was still very much in the dark for you.

You were just about at the end of your list of contacts when you stopped in at a bar for a drink. The seemingly endless trail of dead ends was driving you up a wall. It had been a week and you were still no closer to fulfilling your contract. Whether or not you were further away was up for debate. Heaving a weary sigh, you resigned yourself to a stool at the bar. You yawned, trying to pull the metaphorical fried wires of your mind together to at least figure out an order to place.

“Having the usual, _____?” A familiar voice called to you, cutting through the low hum of the bar. You looked up, searching for the owner of the voice that had sounded like a blessing in your time of impending despair.

Looking down the bar, you saw a man raising an eyebrow towards you. Your eyes widened and your heart jumped as recognition slammed into your face like an oncoming freight train.

“Damon, fuck, what are you doing around here again!? I thought you had left the city!”

He chuckled at the exuberance in your voice. A few years prior, Damon had been one of your closest friends and your most trusted source. After a heist that he was involved in had gone wrong, you had suggested that he leave the city. You didn't know all the details, but you had known that he had given false information to the criminals committing the heist. You had been certain that they'd be after him and you had been extraordinarily relieved when he had taken your advice and fled. You hadn't spoken to him since for fear for his safety and had long since crossed him off your list of contacts.

However, he was back. Here he was, in this back alley bar, offering to make you your old favorite.

“I-I'm sorry, yeah I'd like a drink. But seriously, what are you doing back?” He seemed to almost bristle at your question. He resumed polishing out a glass for your drink before sighing and answering you.

“That's...Well, I'll tell you later. Stick around after last call. Bar closes at eleven.” He said casually, not looking at you. You knew that behavior. Whatever the reason was that he had returned, it had something to do with the criminal underworld. He had information. Your contract could wait a few hours; there was something happening and you wanted to know what. If it was enough to bring Damon back to the city, then it may very well have some influence on your operation as well. Sticking around wasn't just out of curiosity; it was in your own best interest to find out what was happening.

The time passed slowly. The bar's patrons were coming and going in a slow blur and you honestly couldn't care less. You sipped your drink slowly, desperate to pass the time doing something other than staring at the sports game playing on the wall-mounted TV. The clock seemed to move at half regular speed. In desperation, you took out your phone, but ended up sighing and returning it to your pocket when you discovered that you didn't even get reception there.

You ultimately resigned yourself to watching the sports game on the TV. You didn't know the rules or the team, but fuck if you cared at that point. You just needed something to do while you waited for closing time to roll around.

By the time three hours had rolled on by you had become engaged. Time had ceased to be of importance to you. The game had ended hours ago, but they were playing cheesy infomercials now and the sheer absurdity of most of the products that were being advertised had you entranced.

You probably could've sat there in a daze until well after midnight, but the bell for the Final Call rang out loud and snapped you out of your brain-dead stupor. It took you a moment to remember why you had stayed for so long, but when you did you swiveled your head to double-check the time on the clock.

Sure enough, it was a quarter to eleven. Closing time was nigh. Your chest ached with your burning desire to know what shift in the criminal underworld had brought Damon back. You glanced up at him and he nodded to you.

From that moment you were all business. Even though you kept your posture casual in nature, your mind was on the alert. You listened carefully as the remaining patrons finished their drinks and left. As the bar steadily emptied out for the night, the atmosphere grew quiet and solitary. It occurred to you that this was an ideal environment for meetings and you filed that information away in the back of your mind to possibly use later.

When the last patron had left the bar, Damon walked out from behind the bar to lock the door and turn the signs to read CLOSED. You turned in your stool so that you could watch him as he returned to bar and poured himself a drink. He took a swig and sighed before leaning against the counter to finally speak with you.

“So.”

“So.” You replied.

“Alright, I'll tell you why I'm back around. But first, you remember that whole foiled heist thing right?” You nodded. “Right. Okay, it's best I start there. To recap, what you remember was that a group of criminals had been looking to enact a heist, but I foiled their plans through misinforming them of the escape route.” Once again you nodded and hmm'ed in affirmation.

“When I told you about them, I never told you who they were affiliated with. Those criminals? They were pawns of the Beciles.”

“You screwed over the Beciles!? Why the hell are you back? Do they know?” Your heart pounded. He sighed.

“They don't. All of my identification has been replaced. There's no records around now to suggest that I've come anywhere near the city and someone several states away is using my identity as a decoy.” His explanation only puzzled you further.

“Why? How is that even possible? I know you always had your ties, but this sounds a bit beyond your reach. What's going on, Damon?” He smiled in response.

“I was getting to that. Nice to see you're just as impatient as ever.” He took a deep breath. “Apparently, my skills as an information dealer had a reputation. I was brought back to the city under employment and protection. In return, I run an outpost.”

You were almost afraid to ask your next question. “For who?”

“For The Syndicate.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

 

 

Your heart practically stopped. You couldn't believe your luck. Here was your chance to get the information you needed to track down your target.

Unfortunately, here was also the opportunity to force your friend to leave the city again. If you accomplished your mission and the Beciles succeeded in taking over, you had no doubt that Damon would be on their hitlist as soon as they found out that he was around again. You didn't know if you could do that to him.

“The Syndicate? That's...wow.” You trailed off. You wanted to tell him. You wanted him to know, but you'd rather lie in that tin of worms later.

“Yeah.” He nodded, almost as if he couldn't quite believe it himself. “It's...It's been pretty wild.” He said with an air of awe. There was more to this story, but you could tell that the ice was still too thin to be talking about it. Your curiosity was piqued, but you couldn't just ask. There was still too much at risk. Something was keeping him from telling you outright and you weren't about to suggest he compromise himself.

“Wow.” You said again.

“Yeah.” He responded. Truly, this was some unparalleled conversation. A dialogue to be rivaled by the greatest of playwrights.

“So,” He broke the awkward silence and nodding with a fresh pour of drink, “you know roughly why I'm around. What have you been up to?” Oh no. He asked.

“A job.” You said simply, raising your eyebrows and knocking back a gulp of your drink. He looked at you inquisitively.

“A job, huh. A target? Are you looking for info or are you past that stage already?” He asked. You mulled over your thoughts, trying to think of a way to ask without revealing just yet who you were aiming to kill.

“Yeah, actually” You began, “I need any meetings coming up if you know of any. Any at all. I'm at a loss.”

“Not gonna tell me who you're hunting, huh? Guess that makes sense. I've been out of the loop for awhile, right? Alright, yeah. There's a few meetings coming up within the next week. Five, actually.” You brightened up as he said this. There was hope.

“Hit me up, Damon. Tell me about all of them.”

“You got it.” He set his glass aside before continuing. “First up is a gang meeting in two days somewhere downtown. It's being held by some lower level members. I didn't catch the name of the gang. Next up is a a heist planning happening in the upper bleachers of the East District Stadium. I don't know what the heist is or who the people planning it are. That's happening in the afternoon in three days. Later that night will be a dinner held by one of the smaller criminal organisations. I want to say it's the Castles, but I'm not completely certain on that front. Moving on, in five days some dock workers will be meeting with representatives of the Beciles to discuss their product movement. That's all I know there. I'd assume it'd be at night but I don't actually know. Finally, in six days, there's a big Syndicate meeting going on in The Old City, specifically the abandoned train station under City Hall.” He rattled the upcoming events off calmly and ended with an air of finality.

It took every ounce of your willpower to not breathe a sigh of relief. Finally, the lead you needed.

“I won't ask whether or not any of those were the one you needed. It's not my business. But I will wish you luck.” Damon finished off his drink and turned away to wash it in the sink. You stared after him a moment before speaking again.

“Thanks, Damon. I'll need it.” You smiled softly at him when he looked over his shoulder at you. You finished your drink and handed him your glass before getting off the stool.

“As if you ever actually do. It's no problem, _____.” He said, turning around again to grab a towel to dry the glasses with.

“Alright. See you around, Damon. It's good seeing you again.” You told him over your shoulder as you finally departed.

“It was good seeing you, too.” He smiled and waved as you made your exit. You returned the wave and stepped out into the cold of night.

 

This was it. You took a deep breath and began to plan as you walked the relatively short distance home. In six days there would be a big meeting at the abandoned train station beneath City Hall. With any luck, your target would be there. You decided that you would use the meeting as an opportunity to scope out your target. You would have to go down there at some point within the next six days to find a vantage point from which you could watch the meeting and identify your target if they showed up. Even if they didn't, there was the possibly of learning more about The Syndicate. Either way, you would be able to glean information from this meeting that would get you closer to fulfilling your contract.

You had a day off from your day job in three days. You would be able to go down into the station then. Admittedly, you hadn't ventured down into the Old City since you were a child and you would need to prepare for the unexpected.

The City that most people were familiar with had been built on top of the ruins of its own former self. Decades ago, the city had suffered a tremendous fire. Instead of repairing the damage, supports had been constructed and an entire new city had been built on top of the ruins. The Old City was subterranean now and had been forgotten by many, but it was perfect for operating away from the eyes of the law. When you were younger, you had ventured into the upper most layers, but even then you recalled there being unstable platforms and rickety construction scaffolding left over. It had been years since then and there was no telling what sort of disrepair had befallen the ruins by now.

Fortunately, the abandoned train station was on the upper levels. Unfortunately, it was directly beneath City Hall. Every easy access to it had been sealed with cement and the only way there now was to get there from another nearby access point. Even more unfortunate was that the nearest access point that you were aware of was the boarded tunnel nearly five miles away. You heaved a sigh as you concluded that you would need to go to the library and do some research. You would need to find a map of The Old City in order to attempt to plan the route that you would take when you went to scope the scene in three days. It would also probably be a good idea to try to identify any other routes you could take in case the first one was unusable.

You were so engrossed in your own thoughts that you completely failed to notice the figure that had been walking down the sidewalk and on a collision course with you. When you made impact, you were nearly thrown off your feet. Catching yourself, you spun around to face a friendly looking golden-bronze robot who had also spun around to apologise.

“Oh, dear, I'm sorry, I should've been watching where I was going terribly sorry, really, I am, do forgive me I didn't mean to it's just that there was a cat on the other side of the road and I was distracted and I-”

“I'm so sorry! I wasn't paying attention to where I was going I was too busy thinking I am so sorry-” Both of you started rattling off apologies at the same time and had to stop as the realisation that the situation was rather silly hit you both.

“Ah, my apologies.” He said, his electric voice warm and friendly. You smiled. Robots made up the smallest demographic in the city and they varied from poorly made scrap heaps that had somehow gained sentience to ones like the one before you that were amazingly complex and alive in their own way. Some were older, some were newer. No matter what, they were always amazing and you were sure to treat them as people just as much as anyone else. Some people didn't take them seriously as actual living beings, but they were. They were just as alive and they felt just as much as any flesh and blood person. There was a long history of how and why the robots were around and how and why they were sentient. You didn't particularly concern yourself with that, though. What mattered was that they were sentient and they were alive and they were people too, and they were amazing.

“No, no it's alright, It's my fault.” You said, still smiling warmly. “Have a nice evening!” You said before turning to continue your route.

“You as well!” He called before also continuing on his way, his heavy footsteps disappearing into the night behind you.

When you finally arrived home, you smiled. You would be glad to get out of the cold. Sure enough, it was warm inside. Breathing deeply, you prepared for slumber. It wasn't long before you were drifting off with thoughts of your upcoming week still running in your mind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it essentially Wonder City? Yes, it is essentially Wonder City.


	4. Chapter 4

Your day off could not have arrived fast enough. You had, amazingly, gone to bed early. The Central Library opened at a quarter to four and you needed the extra hours to plan your route down into the Old City. Fortunately, the Central Library also had a coffee stand.

You dragged yourself out of your bed at a rate that was reminiscent of a tortoise. Your alarm was still ringing and you refused to silence it until you were up and standing in fear that you'd collapse right back into the comfortable embrace of slumber. Once you were at last on your feet, you silenced your alarm, dressed yourself, and went to gather whatever you thought you might need for your subterranean expedition.

Flashlights were a given, you were certain of that. You grabbed two of those and a headlamp and tossed them into a backpack along with some other miscellaneous hiking and camping gear, a journal, some pens, your phone charger, your wallet, and a voice recorder. Once your bag was packed, you headed out to head to the Central Library.

 

Fortunately, the library had maps archived from the construction of the supports on which The City was built. Unfortunately, these were only of the areas in which the supports had been constructed. Once you had the support structure maps and the maps from just before the fire laid out around you on a massive table, you pulled out your journal and pens. You took a deep swig of your _very_ strong coffee and got to work cross-referencing the maps and creating your own versions of them in your book for you to refer back to later. While you were at it, you also planned the possible routes, alternative paths, and possible instabilities that you might encounter down below.

 

It took you until nine in the morning to accomplish your task. You had, admittedly, stopped intermittently to consume and purchase more caffeine. You by no means had a fully comprehensive map of The Old City, but you had enough to start scouting. You would be able to make more notes during your expedition.

The entrance you had decided to use was a little closer, but only by two blocks. It still had a sign over it marking it as an entrance into The Old City, but the sign was completely obscured by graffiti. It was boarded up, but the top board had fallen off and the board below it had broken on one side and was consequently hanging from a single remaining nail. Examining the boards more carefully, you determined that you could climb them and heave yourself through the gap left by the two broken boards.

You glanced to your sides to make sure that no one was around to see. Taking a few a steps back, you then proceeded to take a running start towards the boarded entrance. Swiftly, you scaled the boards and vaulted yourself through the gap at the top. Somewhere between climbing up and vaulting yourself over, the thought occurred to you that maybe the passage wasn't clear. Maybe you would be throwing yourself directly into a pile of fragile, breaking, rotting wood and nails and maybe this was a bad idea, and it was definitely not a well thought out idea no this was not well thought out at all whatsoever what were you doing-

Thankfully, the passage was clear. You landed on the other side with a small grunt. You stood up straight and dusted your knees off and gazed into the barely illuminated tunnel before you. A small amount of light filtered in from the other side of the boards, but it wasn't enough to go by. Admittedly, it was eerie, but like hell that would stop you. You reached into your bag for one of the flashlights and your journal. The headlamp didn't have a good battery life and you suspected that you would be needing it later. You put your hand through the flashlight's wristband and switched it on.

The additional light did not help with the eeriness. You frowned as you concluded that, honestly, it really just made it worse. Steeling yourself with a deep breath, you opened your journal and walked forward.

The tunnel, according to the maps, would lead down into a more recently shut down subway station. Somewhere in that station would be a door leading to a maintenance tunnel that you suspected would lead into The Old City somewhere along the way.

It felt like a scene right out of Silent Hill. The tunnel was dusty, and leaves and trash littered the floor. The paint on the walls was chipping away. There were leftover advertisement banners that had begun to peel off the walls. As you descended deeper and deeper, the air became colder.

Just when you were thinking that you'd really had enough of this awful stairwell, it opened up into the subway terminal that you had expected. It was still dark and honestly even creepier than the stairwell, but fuck it. Your journal indicated the maintenance shaft to be in a door nearby and to your right. Not wanting to stay on the shut down subway platform a moment longer than necessary, you made a beeline directly for the door that would lead to the shaft.

The door was heavy but fortunately unlocked. You yanked it open and were greeted with a massive cylindrical enclosure. Light filtered in from grates in the sidewalk above and dimly lit the maintenance shaft. A labyrinthine system of metal stairways and landings ran along the walls and led downwards into the steadily darkening abyss below.

The clanging of your footsteps echoed down the shaft despite your efforts to be as quiet as possible. Somewhere near the bottom was supposedly a tunnel that would cross into the Old City. According to your notes, you were almost there. Uncertainty clawed at your chest. You weren't certain the tunnel existed as you had only come across one brief mention of it in a maintenance worker's records.

You shined your light downwards. You were almost at the bottom of the shaft. The light caught on the metal grate at the bottom. You weren't certain what was beyond the grate, but that didn't matter.

As you came around yet another turn and looked down the umpteenth flight of stairs descending ever downwards, you finally spotted what you had been hoping to find.

A little more than halfway down the stairs was a pile of rubble spilling from a hole created by a large wooden beam. Presumably, the beam had been used as scaffolding on the other side of the wall. At some point the scaffolding had collapsed and the beam had broken through the wall. The site was heavily marked off with caution tape and a few strips of the tape had been pinned across the hole.

The hole itself did not provide a very large gap due to the rubble pouring out of it, and the beam itself was still splintered and jutting out over the walkway.

You climbed over the caution tape perimeter and made your way towards the hole. The caution tape blocking it came down easily and revealed that it was just barely large enough for you to squeeze through. Setting your bag next to the hole and atop the rubble, you wormed your way through the gap. Fortunately, the hole opened into something of a passageway and you were able to reach back through the hole for your backpack.

The passageway held only a vague resemblance to a tunnel and was only about fifteen feet in length and was formed by the various broken beams holding back the dirt. At the end of the passage, the dirt sloped down until it met with a very old, very dusty cobblestone sidewalk.

You took a deep breath. Your heart pounded with excitement. This was it. You had made it into The Old City. You still had to to get to the train station, but even getting this far was rewarding in its own right.

Shining your light as you walked down the street, you marveled at the architecture. The Old City was beautiful. The mixture of Art Deco and Victorian Gothic architecture was stunning, albeit rather dramatic. Some of the buildings had been reduced to piles of burnt rubble and ashes. Others were still standing, mostly unscathed, and with shops that were still stocked. Passing by a hat shop, you stared in amazement at the gorgeous craftsmanship still on display in the window. You made a note to yourself to come back later to look inside and maybe take one for yourself.

You had to remind yourself that you were on a mission. Reviewing your notes, you continued en route towards the train station. Every so often there were enormous metal and wooden constructions. You assumed those were the supports holding up the city above. Along the sidewalks were neat piles of debris left over from attempts to clean up the damage left by the fire.

The walk was long and difficult. It wasn't even a walk for the most part. Man y of the streets had become inaccessible while the most direct route went right through the buildings and alleys. Maybe traversing the decrepit buildings wouldn't be the best idea. Maybe the safest route would be the best route, as then you would be sure to be able to find your way back to the surface. Yes, yes that was probably the best idea.

 

As you traversed the buildings and alleys, you repeatedly reminded yourself that the reason that you were taking the more direct, and possibly _more stupid,_ route was because you were on a mission. The buildings were fairly stable for the most part, but every so often you came upon places where the building and streets had collapsed into the abandoned sewer and water system below. Fortunately, you were resourceful and there were plenty of beams and boards with which to create narrow, mildly unsteady walkways over the deep, flooded areas.

Who were you kidding, the boards made awful walkways. They were horribly wobbly and narrow and some of them had broken as you had crossed and fallen once you had cleared them. You were increasingly unsure that you would be able to come back this way at all. You would need to find another way to get out of The Old City. Although the realisation frightened you, you didn't want to waste your time worrying about it. You would figure that out later and keep an eye out for paths to the surface as you forwarded on.

 

It was from atop a dilapidated department store that you finally got sight of the train station.

The train station was magnificent. It was a massive, grandiose building that stood proudly over the surrounding tracks, streets, and buildings. It had massive glass windows overlooking the surroundings and a glass ceiling.

There was a problem though. Your flashlight, at its brightest, barely caught on the building from where you stood. You turned it off as soon as you saw that the lights in the building were not off.

It was only one small light in the main lobby, but it was there and it was illuminated. Fishing in your backpack, you pulled out a pair of binoculars. Your heart was pounding again Lifting the binoculars to your eyes, you took cover behind the low wall on the department store's roof.

Upon closer inspection, you could see that there was one lamp on inside the building. You could make out some stairs and a platform within. You couldn't make out any more. You had to get closer.

Two buildings away saw the start of a scaffolding complex that ran all the way to the glass roof of the station. As quietly as possible for fear of being heard, you made your way towards it. You jumped across the rooftops that were thankfully close enough to do and ran and climbed through the scaffolding complex. When you finally arrived at the station rooftop, you saw an open window leading onto a series of metal supports spanning across the station ceiling.

The lamp was, thankfully, still on. Carefully, you continued forward on the metal beams. Your viewpoint gave you an excellent vantage point from which to survey the building's interior.

This was definitely the place you needed to be. The building's fixtures had been rewired to a portable generator that you could see lying next to a ticket stand. It was considerably less dusty inside and you could see wooden crates stashed behind the counters of the shops.

You spent awhile searching for the area from above and trying to figure out of someone was around. The light was on and you could only assume that it was because someone had made a visit today.

However, you couldn't see evidence of anyone being present beyond turning on the generator. There were no other lights on and you didn't see any lights coming from any of the dark recesses or hallways. As far as you looked, no one else was there. The generator was running, but you concluded that it must have been left on for some reason.

You had seen enough. The site was surveyed, all you had to do was find your way out. Just as you began to turn around to leave, however, the generator shut down.

The light went out.

Your foot did not make solid contact with the metal beam as you turned, and you fell. As you lay on the ground, rapidly fading away from consciousness, your mind faintly registered heavy footsteps and a deep, vaguely electric voice say something that you couldn't make out.

And then, as quickly as the light after the generator had shut down, consciousness slipped from your feeble grasp.

You had blacked out.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡ ° ͜ ʖ ͡ °)


	5. Chapter 5

 

When you came to, the light of day was warming your face. Your body ached, but you were lying on a comfortable surface. You had nearly slipped back to sleep when the memories of your adventures returned to you. Everything, from the journey down the maintenance shaft to-

Wait. Oh fuck, _you had fallen_. Your eyes shot open. Where were you!? Despite the desperate protests from your body, you sat up to look around.

...It was your room. You were home. Had the previous day happened at all? Your aching body suggested that yes, that had all really happened. But how did you get home? How did you get out of The Old City? You had so many questions.

You climbed out of your bed. You were still garbed in your clothes from the previous day. Your backpack,which must've broken your fall to some extent and might've explained why nothing felt broken, was lying against your side table. You leaned over and opened the bag, hoping to find some sort of clue. You found nothing except that the impact had broken one of your flashlights as well as your binoculars. Setting your backpack back down, you started examining the rest of your room, and then the rest of your home.

You found No One and Nothing. You rubbed your forehead and heaved a deep breath. Someone had to have found you and brought you back, which meant Someone knew where you lived.

Your stomach twisted with both anxiety and hunger. Rolling your eyes, you went to make yourself something to eat and take a shower. You would have to deal with this later

 

When you walked into your kitchen, your heart practically stopped. There, taped to your fridge door, was an envelope with your name written on it in an elegant but jerky handwriting that you did not recognise.

You stepped up to your fridge carefully, unsure whether or not there might be something in the envelope. You furrowed your brow and took the envelope off the door. Your breathing had grown heavy and short with anticipation.

The letter wasn't sealed. Inside was a note that read:

 

“ ______,_

_In the case that you do not recall, you fell from the ceiling supports in the Central Train Station in The Old City yesterday. You likely got a concussion and your upper left arm suffered a rather severe laceration. I have bandaged it for you, but please take a shower and wash the wound. I will trust that you know where your medical supplies are. I have also taken the liberty of calling your employer to inform them that you will not be able to work due to injury. They have given you the rest of the week off, so please rest._

_You may be undergoing anxiety at the thought of a stranger not only knowing your name and address, but also your workplace. Please do not be alarmed, I mean no harm. I know many things and I do not mean to be, as some may say, a 'creeper'._

_You will also, no doubt, be wondering who I am. Unfortunately, I cannot divulge this information to you. That being said, I have left you this note in hopes that you will read it and be at least somewhat comforted in knowing, to some extent, what transpired after your unfortunate accident yesterday._

 

_I Send You My Best Regards._ ”

 

There was no signature. Nothing to suggest the identity of whoever had left it. You reached up and felt the bandage wrapped around your arm. Whoever they were, you were inclined to trust them. They had carried you out of The Old City, bandaged your wound, and made sure you would be okay. Even so, the mystery of their identity was still troubling you and you had no doubt that it would continue to trouble you until you could solve the mystery.

When you took your shower, you inspected the wound on the back of your arm. The gash was long and deep. You cleaned it and redressed it. Afterwards you went back to your backpack. Sure enough, a shard of glass from your binoculars was still jutting out of the side.

Your body still ached. Your head hurt. Even though you didn't break anything, the fall had still done a number on you. You were definitely badly bruised in a number of places. Amazingly, your rescuer had gotten you the last few days of the week off. You had time then.

Heaving a sigh, you collapsed back onto your bed and passed back out.

 

When you awoke, it was evening. You were still aching, but you felt like you had to get up. You had slept for far too long today. You had to get up. The Syndicate meeting was in in two days and you had to get ready to journey down to the train station again. If you were to miss this opportunity, you didn't know when the next would opportunity would be.

You got up, again, and stretched your bruised and aching body. You picked up your backpack and re-examined the damage.

The glass shard had cut a large cut in the bag itself. You could hear more fragments rattling against each other inside. Sighing, you pulled out the rope and the still functional headlamp and flashlight and went to dump the rest of the contents into a box for safe disposal. You would need to buy a new set of binoculars before the meeting. You took another look at your backpack. Your eyes narrowed and you grimaced at the conclusion; deciding that the damage to the backpack wasn't worth fixing, you tossed it as well and added 'new backpack' to your mental shopping list.

Your shopping list was growing by the second when you realised you needed groceries as well. Was there anything you didn't need at this point? You didn't know anymore. Just when you were about to take another look around for anything else you might need to get, you heard your Work Phone go off.

Your heart skipped a beat. You only had one standing contract at the moment, which meant that there was only one possibility as to who the caller was.

You rushed over to the hidden phone that you reserved for communications with your Employers. Steeling yourself, you answered.

“Hello?”

“Hello _____. It's me. Roger.” You could hear the smile in his voice. “I wanted to check in on you, wanted to know how your progress is going, and all that.”

“I expect to have identified the leader of The Syndicate within the next upcoming week.” You said sternly. Roger didn't need to know any more than that and you wanted the conversation to be over sooner rather than later.

“I see. That's good to hear, _____. I will contact you again in a week then in order to assess your progress again.”

“Understood, sir.” You said. You heard the click of him hanging up and immediately slumped on your couch, heaving a large sigh. You did not like this 'Roger' and his slimy ass voice. The less you had to communicate with him, the better.

You also had no intention of telling him about the meeting. Informing employers of enemy meetings gave them bad ideas and you really did not need anyone knowing what you were doing. Secrecy was vital to the criminal underworld and you sure as hell abided by it.

Hiding the phone again, you resumed your inventory of your home that had been so rudely interrupted by Roger's impromptu check-in. Concluding that there wasn't anything else you needed, you went to take yet another shower and get dressed to go get the replacement supplies and some groceries.

 

It had taken a few hours, but you eventually returned home with your supplies and food in tow. Many of the stores in The City kept late hours and you were fortunate to have eventually found a store selling good binoculars. You would be needing them to identify your target, you were certain.

It was as you were making dinner that you almost remembered something. Your heart felt cold when you realised that there was one more piece of the puzzle that you had almost completely forgotten. You struggled to pull the memory into any further clarity, but you couldn't.

However, it was there. You were sure you didn't imagine it.

You were certain. When you had fallen, someone had been there. Someone had seen you fall and come to your aid. All of this you were already aware of. What you hadn't yet realised was that you had heard their footsteps and their voice, although you couldn't remember what either sounded like.

And you suspected that whoever they were would be at the meeting.

They might even be your target.

You laughed. The leader of The Syndicate? Saving you? Yeah, that was a good one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WE'LL GET THERE. WE WILL. SOON.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand we're back! I just want to put a note up front to thank everyone who's read this and left kudos and comments. Thank you so much!!! Y'all's interest keeps me motivated. This chapter is a bit longer than the previous ones. I hope y'all enjoy!!!

Two days later, you practically leapt from your bed. There was a lot to do and you had to be in position to spy on the meeting well ahead of time.

Your wound still hadn't healed and you groaned when you realised that you would have to be mindful of it on your journey down later. Irked, you redressed it with extra care. You didn't need that damn dressing causing you any problems.

Once your morning routine had been completed, you grabbed your new bag (containing, of course, the supplies you had bought two days prior) and left your apartment.

Your plan was to to spend your day getting to the Train Station and then waiting there until the meeting was long finished to return home. You weren't sure whether or not Syndicate members would be milling around the station before the meeting, but if they were you wanted to be safely positioned as soon as was sensible. Just as you ahd two days ago, you made your way to the same boarded off entrance.

Once again, you found yourself vaulting through the gap at the top of the boards.

When you had been ensuring that you would have everything you would need for your reconnaissance, you had realised that using a flashlight when there were possibly enemies about would be a terribly idiotic thing to do. Ultimately, you had tossed one flashlight in your backpack and, instead of a second flashlight, you had dug out your set of night vision goggles that you had invested in to aid you on other contracts. Putting on your goggles, you allowed yourself a delighted smile before carrying on your way.

The passage wasn't as eerie this time. No, your mind was far too preoccupied with anticipation to be worrying about the eerie old station. Plus, you were going somewhere where other people were guaranteed to be. Your heart was already pounding and it was barely one thirty.

The maintenance shaft was just as you remembered. You took extra care to step silently with the thought that Syndicate members might be milling about in The Old City and might hear your steps echoing down the chamber should anyone be near enough to the hole. When you finally reached the hole and made your way down the pile of rubble, you peered around the corner and as far down the streets as you could. Looking up, you saw a fire escape leading to the roof of one of the nearby buildings. You tilted your head as an idea took hold.

You had time. Plenty of time. Checking the road again, you proceeded to run across and scale the fire escape. In hardly any time at all, you had gotten to the roof. From this point, you surveyed your surroundings and smiled as your idea seemed to bear fruit.

Just as you had suspected based on your last journey, it seemed that if you stuck to the roofs you could very likely make it to the station without returning to the considerably more nerve-wracking street level. As a bonus, many of the fallen patches of sidewalk and road would be of no hindrance to you from up there. The only downside was that you'd have to leap gaps every so often, but it was a small price for the peace of mind that being on a high vantage point had afforded you.

Unfortunately, it turned out that navigating the old rooftops was akin to navigating a labyrinth. Many times you had turned away from making a jump or from scaling a building upon noticing places where the wall was likely to crumble or where stones were already crumbling away. There had so far always been a safer option, but you were getting tired very quickly. You comforted yourself by marking which ledges were questionable, which were safe, and the path you were taking onto one of the mini-maps that you had drawn in your journal.

 

This was taking longer than you would have liked. You were grateful that you had had the foresight to undergo this expedition so early in the day as to afford you the extra time, but the pressure to get to your destination still held your chest in a vice.

As you neared the train station, you came upon a building that you had had to go through during your last expedition. As such, you knew that your rooftop route put you right on course with an open vent that lead into the building's rafters. You smiled when the vent's entrance came into view.

You ducked into the vent. Before long, you reached the other side and smiled wide as you saw the vent open out over a catwalk. Quietly and carefully, you jumped down from the vent and onto the catwalk. Down below sprawled a massive, gorgeous performance hall. The gilded decorations didn't shine in your goggles like they did with your flashlight, but you knew they were there. The cobweb covered seats were visible below, lined up across the room and up into the mezzanine and the boxes. The tied back curtains were as still as stone, but they were massive and impressive all the same. The catwalk passed the suspended lighting and you couldn't help but marvel at the complexity of the place. It was amazing. This old theatre was, without a doubt, one of your favorite buildings in The Old City.

The catwalk had a turn in it that led back and over the stage before it passed another vent that led out to the the other side of the building. As you crossed over the stage, you failed to notice a few nails sticking out of a board that leaned against one of the catwalk's railings. The nails caught the dressing of your wound and you could feel the threads of the bandaging give way as you reflexively stepped away and tore the bandage. Something else happened in that moment. Your arm hurt more all of a sudden. You must've reopened the wound on the nails as well. You grimaced and swore under your breath. You didn't have time for this; you'd have to deal with it later.

Swearing under your breath again, you ran a hand through your hair and continued on at a quicker pace. Your chest tightened. If blood was running again, you ran the risk of leaving a trail. You had to hurry. You couldn't deal with the wound here due to the narrowness of the catwalk. Depending on what the scene on the other side of the building looked like, you could possibly redress the wound once you had exited the building.

You hurried to get back out in the open. When you had, you released a breath when you saw that there were no lights on at the station; there wasn't anyone down there, you figured. You sat down and investigated the damage.

Sure enough, the wound had reopened. You had been worried that this might happen. Fortunately, you had brought an extra roll of bandaging. You had no gauze, but the bandage would be enough until you could get back above ground.

When you had finished, you made your way to the station. When you stood on the roof next to the open window through which you had entered the last time, you spotted a platform across the metal beams and on the other side of the station that looked to be the ideal lookout. You had come ready for this. Taking extra care so as not to slip and fall this time, you crossed the beams and hopped onto the platform. Looking around, you recognised it to be a service platform for the station's clock, the back of which had been constructed around in making the platform. A fragment of the clock's face had broken at some point, leaving you a convenient window from which to keep an eye on the outdoor surroundings. Regardless, you wouldn't be seen from the dark recess created and the ladder that had once led up to the platform, you could see, had long since crumbled away. Content with your perch, you set your bag down, took a seat, and checked the time.

The overall journey and your lagging and sightseeing had taken nearly three hours; it was already four thirty. You held back an awkward chuckle when you realised that you had taken so long. Taking a deep breath to steel your nerves, you took out your binoculars and your journal to pass the time.

About an hour later, lights suddenly illuminated the underground. Your heart leapt into your throat and your eyes grew wide as you watched as lights flickered on, one by one, radiating outwards from the station. In the distance in more than one direction, you could see flashlight beams being swung around as groups of people started to make their way through the streets. You figured that they must have other ways down with paths that don't involve climbing and crossing gaps and buildings, but at least that meant that it was unlikely anyone would be crossing your path later when it came time to leave.

With the lights on, you removed your goggles and put them away in your bag. The train station was still dark, but you had no doubt the lights would be on very soon.

 

You continued to watch, with baited breath and as still as a gargoyle, as people, mostly well-dressed, walked into the station.

“Hell, is the boss not here yet?” A man called out. Several beam shone at him accusingly, as though asking that question had not been a smart thing to do. Another voice responded, “The meeting will begin on time, don't get your knickers twisted.”

You weren't sure what to make of this, although you were considerably more excited upon hearing the confirmation that the leader would indeed be there.

As more and more people arrived at the station, more and more beams of light illuminated the interior. You crouched down to be less likely to be caught by a stray beam and watched as the Syndicate members down below chatted amongst themselves.

 

And then, the station lights came on. The chatter died out instantaneously. The people stood up straight and looked around as the light flooded the area, blinking rapidly and stretching their faces after being nearly blinded. You, too, rubbed at your eyes before staring down, binoculars in hand, at the small crowd below.

Many of the people were well dressed and those who weren't had still made an effort to look decent despite still wearing wet goulashes or tool belts. You could tell that these people were from different districts; fishermen, construction foremen, business people, and more all stood amongst the crowd.

Suddenly, you heard a new set of footsteps approaching from out of sight. They were heavy and even, and you desperately did not want to acknowledge what your brain was whispering to you about what that meant. You watched as the people below breathed deep and lifted themselves straighter. They were trying to look presentable. Whoever was walking in, you knew, had to be your target. Still ignoring the voice trying to tell you what you knew, your chest clenched as you looked around for the new arrival.

Your breathing was shortening. Your heart was pounding. You were about to obtain a visual on your target, a person who's identity had been kept a carefully guarded secret from everyone outside the Syndicate. The footsteps were getting closer and closer.

Finally, the person came into view. Your heart nearly stopped short. You let out a breath that you hadn't realised you'd been holding. Worst of all, the voice that had been whispering to you was confirmed correct. You mouthed a silent _fuck_ as you looked upon the target.

There, standing before the crowd, was a man made of metal. His 'skin' and the spikes protruding from his back gleamed silver beneath the lights. He was tall, with a strong, slender form. His eyes, you could see, glowed green beneath the brim of the fine black fedora that he wore. Inspecting his face, you had to admit that it was a very attractive face, even if it was a robot. Actually, you would have been lying if you had said that the robot man didn't strike you as rather attractive over all. Based solely on appearances, you concluded that it was an awful shame that you had to destroy him.

 

And then he spoke. You didn't care about what it was that they were discussing, but, in all fairness, you had to take note of _all_ of a target's defining features. It was purely professional. Absolutely. No thirsting here. Nope. None at all. All professional. Nothing by professionalism.

Which was partially a lie. Yes, you regularly took note of defining characteristics of your targets, but _damn_. This robot man had a voice _like melted chocolate_. Or caramel. Or any number of delicious things. Point was, _this was an extraordinarily attractive robot man with an extraordinary voice_ and you were honestly starting to fucking thirst. You groaned under your breath. It was just your luck that your highest profile target yet happened to be the mostly absurdly charismatic being that you had ever seen.

Slumping over, you resigned yourself to drowning in his voice until the meeting was well over with. You doubted you could make a clean escape otherwise and you had your information. You didn't know how long this would take, but damn, it was practically going to be torture.

 

You had indeed laid there on the platform watching the meeting for the next hour and a half, at which point the meeting was adjourned and the Syndicate members began to take their leave. The most interesting bits of the meeting had been in regards to the rumoured other leaders. According to what the metal man had said, there were two, with _two more_ handling things amongst the imports and trades. The names he had said – Rabbit, Zero, Hatchworth, and The Jon – were strange names. You could only take this to mean that the other 'leaders' were also robots. However, you still didn't know this one's name.

The whole situation had become much more frustrating. The Syndicate was run by robots which were typically easily destroyed with the right weaponry. However, you had never dealt with actual sentient robots before and you had certainly never had to 'deal' with robots of the caliber that your target was of. This was extremely problematic. You weren't even sure how to begin approaching this.

You glanced down again after ruminating for awhile to see that the members had at last all left and the metal man had, at some point, left as well.

 

You stood up...

...you turned around to pick up your bag...

...and your heart stopped as your eyes were met with silver and green.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ° ͜ ʖ ° )


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What? A new chapter already!? Hot damn.

 

When you had turned around, you had come face to face with the silver man. Your breath caught in your throat as you stared directly into his glowing green eyes. They looked so human up close, but so startlingly green. Something about them was less organic and more mechanical but you couldn't tell. His eyes were only emphasized by the black surrounding them and the panels comprising his face only complimented his contenance all the more. Black hair stuck out from beneath his hat. His lips were black and _hot_ damn you were pretty sure you had never seen anyone pull off black lips like this metal man did. Holy _fucking shit_ you thought. What were you to do? He was goddamn gorgeous. You were practically losing your mind.

“Hello there.” He said calmly, raising an eyebrow and smirking. Oh jeez, you were definitely thirsting. What the hell was wrong with you!? You had barely seen this fucker! Speaking was nowhere in the plan! And yet, here he stood before you. You took a deep inhale and straightened up. He had just said hello, why the fuck weren't you responding _where was your head at stop thinking about his goddamn face_. There was a problem though; you had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, you didn't have to, since he too straightened himself out to his full height and spoke again with his goddamn velvet-ass voice. You lifted your head to look at him. _Fuck, he was tall.._

_“_ It's nice to see you again. And here I thought I'd have to send you a letter if I wanted to talk to you.” You gulped. Again?

“Again? “ You managed. It was the prevailing thought and quite frankly he was distracting to look at. You could only hope you could get used to it quickly and get your blasted composure back. He smiled.

“Yes, again. You reopened your arm, didn't you? Come with me, I'll patch it. Again.” He tilted his head down to look at you from under the brim of his hat as he said 'Again.' Your heart thudded. There was no way.

“Again? Do you mean...it was you. You found me when I fell from the rafters.”

“That is exactly what I mean. Come on, I don't have any, uh, bandages on me.” He turned and began to walk away from you, but stopped at the ledge. You heard him hum in contemplation as he leaned to the side and look down at the ruined ladder. You walked up to where he was standing and realised what he was thinking about.

There was no way down. You hadn't cared when you had taken roost because you had intended to cross back across the rafters. However, he wanted you to follow him and honestly you were so surprised that he hadn't just killed you that you were willing to comply with whatever it was that he had in mind.

Mechanically, he shifted his weight again and stood straight before turning his head to look at you. He then looked at your bag.

“Get your bag, but don't put it on.” You did as he said, and returned to stand in front of him. His made a series of what you took to be approving faces although his eyebrows looked like they were about to jump off his face.

Without warning, he bent down and picked you up, your bag clutched in your arms as he held you to his chest. _Holy shit_ you thought again. You were certain that if this was an anime, you would've just suffered from a comically intense nosebleed.

His head turned to look back at the ledge. Mechanically as ever, he moved to the edge and, again without warning, leapt down. Startled, you leaned into him. When you felt him stand back up, you realised what you had gone and done and pulled away from him. You risked looking at him only to met with his extraordinarily smug face. He let out a low chuckle before walking forward. You flushed and wondered why the hell he hadn't put you down and did your best to ignore how undeniably _arousing_ that goddamn chuckle was. You were starting to hate yourself for being so weak that you were already thirsting so hard.

“We'll have to have a little, uh, chat once we get back above ground.” He said. You said nothing in return and only avoided his gaze to look forward towards where he was carrying you.

You soon came to a large wreck of scaffolding that blocked an old elevator that stood amongst a pile of rubble. He set you down here.

“Don't run away. I will catch you.” Gulping, you obeyed. What else were you supposed to do? You were better off obeying him and you had no doubt that he was telling the truth.

He gripped the massive iron wreck and, as easily as he had lifted you, lifted the wreck enough that the elevator was accessible.

“Well? Get in.” He said to you with a tilt of his head. You did as he said and entered the elevator. He followed, setting the wreck back down behind him. Once inside, he switched a lever and hit a button on the old panel. The elevator rattled to life and began to rise.

You looked around the elevator on the way up. You wouldn't be able to revisit it or take this way into the city ever again, obviously. The metal bars of the elevator were rusted and there were remnants of posters peeling off of the walls. The button panel was yellowed and rusting and some of the wires were visible. You didn't know where it was taking you, but you figured it didn't matter.

Soon enough, the elevator rattled to a halt. The door retracted again, allowing the elevator to open out into an old hallway with cracked tile flooring and peeling walls.

The metal man walked out of the elevator and looked over his shoulder when you did not follow.

“Well? Come on, unless you, uh, want me to carry you again.” He said, raising an eyebrow and smirking. Oh jeez, was he fucking _flirting_? You must have been loosing your damn mind. You followed, not wanting to seem like some sort of desperate ho.

He continued walking forward with you trailing behind. This was, admittedly, not the best idea. You should've walked at his side. This was a terrible angle to be looking at him from. By which you actually meant that it was a _fucking amazing_ angle to be looking at him from. His back was strong and the spines protruding in two lines trailing down from his shoulder blades to the small of his back emphasized the lines of his body. And then, _oh fuck_ , his ass was _goddamn amazing._

You were definitely losing your mind, What the hell were you doing? You had come down to the Old City expecting to identify the leader of The Syndicate as some barely mobile old guy, and instead here you were ogling the actual leader who was, unfortunately, an amazingly attractive robot man who must've possessed a supernatural level of charisma and sex appeal because really, what right did a robot have to be so attractive? Who had let him be like this? This was absolutely ridiculous.

At the end of the hallway was a wall. You watched, however, as he pressed into the wallpaper and the wall gave way to a secret passage. You squealed inwardly because, honestly, that was both one of the dorkiest and yet coolest things you had ever seen. You followed him into the passageway.

It was a long upwards staircase after that. One that exhausted you, although you did your best not to show it. The passage was crumbling and covered in cobwebs. The air was musty and stale and it was dark except for an occasional dim wall light.

Somewhere near what you could only assume might be the top of the staircase, the robot man stopped to activate another hidden door. He looke back at you before entering. Stepping quick, you followed him through the door.

You found yourself in an ornate office. Where it was located, you couldn't be sure, It was large, with bookshelves lining the walls. You hear the door behind you slide close and you glanced back to find that it was hidden behind another bookcase. A large wooden desk stood towards the back of the office, in front of a large window that was hidden by a set of wooden blinds. On the desk were a few stacks of paper, a lamp, and a series of pens. A few plants were along the walls and in the middle of a room was a large rug. The room was softly lit by a few floor lamps and there was a heavy wooden door set into the wall between the bookcases.

You watched as the robot man walked around the desk and pulled a first aid kit out of one of the drawers.

“Come here and take a seat.” He said to you, pulling out a comfortable looking chair from behind the desk. You complied. Rolling up your sleeve and exposing the bloody dressing, you sat in the chair and watched as he knelt beside you with the box.

“I'm going to ask you a few, ah, questions, while I do this. You know, to take your mind off of it.” You nodded and muttered a quiet “okay” as you watched him cut off the dressing.

“I know you weren't down there just to sight see. What were you down there for?” You gulped.

“Nothing, I just wa-” He pressed into your wound. You flinched in pain and glanced at him only to see him glaring at you from beneath the brim of his hat.

“I wouldn't suggest trying me, _____. Why don't you try answering my question again.” He readied an alcohol swab.

“I...I was...I was doing reconnaissance.” You gave in.

“And what exactly were you looking to find?”

“I...I was looking for the leader of The Syndicate.” He smirked at your admission.

“Not what you were expecting, huh?” He said with a smirk. “Why were you looking for me?”

“I was hired to kill you.” You said casually, hoping that nonchalance would offset the admission that you were his enemy. However, all he did was continue gently cleaning your wound. You looked down at him. His eyes were focused on what he was doing and his hands were gently handling your arm and the swab. _OH WOOPS looking down was a MISTAKE_ You thought, as you found yourself staring at his long fingers and hands. You were probably best off not looking at him at all. As such, you turned your head away and took a deep breath.

“Like what you see?” His comment caught you off guard and you sputtered before attempting to say otherwise. He chuckled at your incoherent babbling.

When the moment had passed, he was reaching for the gauze.

“Who hired you?” You calmed down. It was back to business, and that was something you could deal with.

“A man that called himself Roger. From the Becile family.” He paused before continuing to apply the bandaging.

“Roger? Is that what he's calling himself.” You looked at him again, imploring him to continue. “Your employer's real name is Buster.” He paused again and finished wrapping your arm in the bandage. Finishing he stood up and went to lean against the desk; a move that should've been illegal because he honestly looked way too damn good like that. He raised his head to look forward and your eyes were drawn to his neck, so beautifully shaped by the panels that disappeared beneath his shirt collar. Oh no, you were salivating. Really, he was impossibly gorgeous. You swallowed and looked away.

“_____, I have a proposition for you.” He said, crossing his arms. And looking at you. You gave him an inquisitive look. He continued.

“A business proposition, seeing as how you are employed by the Beciles.”

“Okay?” You ventured.

“I'd like to ask you to act as a sort of spy for me. Tell me what they're up to..”

“You want me to be a double agent.”

“Yes.”

“My only contract with them right now is to kill you, though.”

“Get Buster to give you more assignments. Tell him you can't kill me yet. Become a personal assassin for them. And when you learn anything, come to me.”

“What...What's in it for me?” You were practically obligated to ask.

“Well, first of all, I don't kill you. Second of all, we've had a long history with the Beciles. With your help, we could possibly end a feud that has lasted far longer than I'm sure you're aware of. What is he paying you?” You told him.

“I'll pay you that amount for every bit of information you bring me, if you want.” He offered in such a way that it occurred to you that it wasn't a big deal to be dishing out so much money. It also suddenly struck you that there was something afoot here that was far larger than you had ever expected to get wrapped up in.

“Well? What do you say? Do we have a deal?” You mulled it over, but it didn't take you long to answer.

“Yes.” You replied. He reached out a hand and you, in turn, shook it. With that, you had a new deal, a new contract, and far more ahead of you than you had signed up for.

When your hands had disconnected, he pushed off from the desk to reach his hand back out to you to help you up.

“Here, I'll bring you back home.” You swallowed your accumulating saliva, again, and took his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. However, you lost your footing and tripped forward, only for him to catch you in his arms and against his chest.

“A little soon, don't you think? At least let me take you out first.” He chuckled. Your mind was abuzz with thirst and was screaming _holy shit_ at you repeatedly. Gathering your wits as fast you could, you pushed away from him.

“Come on, I'm only joking. Follow me.” He said, still smiling. You somehow suspected there was more to the flirting than he let on, but you were also certain that your lonely ass was just being desperately hopeful. He turned and went through the heavy wooden door, you in tow, and led you down a long hallway and to a much more modern set of elevators.

The elevator opened to a massive lobby with walls of marble. You realised that his office was located in a very upscale building and it occurred to you that it was probably a ways from your home.

The robot man continued to lead you out through the rotating door at the fron to the lobby, around the corner into a parking garage, and over to a black car parked in the shadows, He unlocked the doors and you got into the passengers seat. Within minutes, the car was speeding along towards your home. You looked over at him as he drove. His eyes were glowing in the dark again and the shadows cast by the passing street lamps were doing an unfortunately remarkable job at highlighting the contours of his face and neck. You tore your eyes away as soon as you realised that you were thirsting again. You were being ridiculous, after all.

He hadn't said anything in a long while, but the silence had been oddly comfortable. Before long, the car pulled up outside your building and he got out to open your door for you.

“Wow, thanks. Never thought anyone would be opening a car door for me.” You scoffed.

“Do I really strike you as the sort to just sit in the car? I'd rather see you off.” He winked as he said this. He really had to stop flirting, this was absurd. Why did he have to be such a flirt? As you stepped away from the car, he closed the door and turned to return to the driver's side. Watching him, you realised there was still something you had to ask him. He had barely taken a step away from you before you spoke.

“You know,” You trailed off. He turned back towards you.

“Yes?” He answered.

“You know my name, but you never introduced yourself. I'd like to at least know who you are.” You weren't sure where this sudden flow of confidence came from to make you ask his name instead of leaving the topic be, but it was too late to retract the inquiry. He smiled at you.

“I'm The Spine.” He answered, tipping his hat. You had to resist laughing at the gesture, so ruined by the internet and young men of the day as it had. However, it came off as smooth as fuck when he did it and it had your stomach doing acrobatics for no good reason.

“Nice to meet you, The Spine. I'm _____.” You weren't sure why you introduced yourself when he already knew your name, but you did.

“At last. We've finally properly introduced ourselves. I'll see you soon, _____.”

“See you soon.” You said, and you almost reveled in the near-normalcy that the interaction had afforded you. You almost forgot that you were talking to a robot and that he was your _former_ target. You sighed. Tonight had certainly taken a very unexpected turn and you knew you had a lot of work ahead of you, now that you were a double agent working for The Syndicate.

You practically skipped back up to your apartment.

What could you say? It was exciting.

You were smiling when you got back to your apartment and when you finally went to bed, your heart was still pounding with the exhiliration brought on by your new job.

A double agent? Hot damn, you were practically a protagonist.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn't I mention that the chapters would get longer eventually?


	8. Chapter 8

When you awoke the next morning, you were certain that it had all been a terribly vivid dream. You were sure that you would get out of bed to find that it was still the morning of the meeting. You would find a container in your sink that had previously contained leftovers that were further gone than you had realised. You would get your equipment together, head down to the station, find a perfectly normal situation and a perfectly normal old man as the leader of The Syndicate. You'd come home and take a shower, change your dressing, and go to bed. All would be fine. Everything would be normal. Boring, even. Nothing out of the ordinary.

Apparently, truth was out to prove itself stranger than fiction. When you got out of bed and checked the time, you found that it was indeed the day after the meeting. Your heart rate began to increase as the memories of the previous evening that you were trying so desperately to convince yourself were a dream flashed through your mind. Walking out to your living room, you found your bag slumped against the wall next to the door just as you had left it the previous evening.

You threw on some clothes to head downstairs and check your mailbox. At that point, you were desperate to have some normality. In your mailbox was a single large envelope containing an object. There was no return address. Your heart pounded. It could be another contract, but something told you that it wasn't. You clutched the package tightly on your way back to your apartment.

Once back inside, you sat on your couch and opened the package. You emptied it, pulling out only a letter and a cheap flip phone that you recognised to be a burner. Unfolding the letter, you took a deep breath as the reality of the previous evening finally settled in.

There on the paper was the same elegant but jerky handwriting that had been on the letter on your fridge. Looking at it now, you recognised the jerkiness of the scrawl as being mechanical. You let yourself collapse atop the pillows and allowed your head to fall back as you were hit with the recognition of exactly whose handwriting this was. Sighing again, you lifted up the letter so that you could read it..

 

 

_Dear _____,_

 

_I hope this letter finds you well. You may be thinking that this whole situation is rather surreal, but I assure that it is all just as real as I am. Unless you have for some reason changed your mind on our agreement, you are indeed working for the Syndicate now. As my spy, I have included a phone in the package with which you can contact me._

_In a week, I would like to meet with you again. By then, it would be ideal if your situation with Buster has been dealt with. I will contact you in a week concerning meeting._

_Take care of your bandaging._

 

 

The letter was short, but to the point. At the bottom, in a larger but equally mechanical script, was his name: _The Spine_. You dragged a hand down your face as you marveled at the mess that you had gotten yourself entangled in. Once you had finally gathered enough of your senses to carry on, you grabbed the phone and inspected it. It wasn't of any brand that you recognised and it had only one phone number in it. You assumed that it was his.

You stood then to hide it away. For _some_ reason (a reason that you really did not want to acknowledge as existent) you hid it in your nightstand. Running your hands through your hair, you walked away to get out your other work phone to call Buster.

 

When you called him, you had thought over your lies and steeled your confidence. You opened the phone and called Buster. Fortunately, he answered promptly.

“_____, what a pleasant surprise. Would it be out of line to hope this is friendly call?” You still did not like his slimy ass voice. Actually, you liked it ten times less.

“I'm calling to discuss the terms of my employment.” You replied firmly. The quicker you could get to the point, the faster the conversation could be ended and the faster you could hang up.

“Oh. A shame. Are you trying to void the contract?”

“No, not exactly. However, the terms of the contract need to be amended and I would like to discuss options.” On the other end, Buster was silent for a moment.

“Okay. Go on.”

“I haven't found the client yet, but I have found out their meeting location. There Is no telling how long it may take to locate the client, but I would like to make a proposal in the meantime.”

“Hmm. Alright, I'm listening.” You would've released a heavy sigh of relief had you not been still on the phone.

“Until I can locate the client, I'd like to propose that I work as a personal assassin for you. With the knowledge that I have acquired, I am in an ideal position to easily take out Syndicate members.”

“I see. I'll tell you what. Prove yourself. There's a member of the Syndicate by the name of Austin Mallory. He successfully diverted a shipment of several thousand dollars worth of supplies and we haven't been able to pin him down since. Eliminate him and you've got yourself a deal.”

“Consider it done, sir.”

“I look forward to your success. Have a nice evening”

“I will, sir.” You hung up promptly. You had had more than enough of him talking by then.

You finally let out a deep sigh and allowed yourself to relax before going and tossing the phone back in its hiding place in the kitchen. You had just about succeeded. All you had to do now was eliminate this Austin Mallory and you were set.

 

You waited until night to proceed with your plan. You had spent some time considering how best to proceed and you had quickly come to the conclusion that the best course of action was clearly to call the Spine and tell him what was up. After all, informing him of these things was your job now.

When the sun had long set and the city lights were flickering off as the citizens went to sleep, you finally went to your room to pull the other phone back out of your nightstand. Steeling your nerves that you absolutely refused to think about, you opened the phone and called the only contact on it.

The phone rang again and again. Your heart started to thud although you ignored it. A small voice in your mind whispered to you that this was becoming a habit, but you ignored it as well. Finally, you heard the tell tale click of the call being answered.

“Hello, _____.” His voice sounded even more mechanical through the lousy speaker of the phone. “Did you, uh, speak with Buster?”

“Yeah. Yeah I did.” You responded. You immediately wanted to smack yourself. Why were you being so much more casual with him? Ugh, you were garbage, you were certain.

“That's fantastic, _____.” You again didn't want to acknowledge the reasoning behind it, but for _some_ reason, the validation made your heart swell.

“He gave me an assignment to 'prove my worth' before he's willing to accept the revised contract.” You told him.

“And that is?”

“He said that an...Austin Mallory, diverted one of their shipments. Buster wants Austin dealt with as proof of my worth.” You heard what you were certain was a huff on the other end of the line.

“I'd rather he stick around. In a few days, tell Buster that it was taken care of. I'll have some other members arrange a....more innocuous solution.” You were stunned silent.

“Thanks.” Was all you could utter in response. You nearly had a heart attack when you heard his deep-ass-delicious-as-fuck chuckle on the other end.

“It makes sense to me to put in the effort to keep my 'friends' 'happy', doesn't it? I'll take care of it, unless the circumstances insist otherwise.” There was something in the way he said the last part, as though there was a promise there that you couldn't figure out. Unfortunately, instead of being suspicious and concerned by it, you were only intrigued and, as the small voice in your mind that you were chaining up and gagging as fast as you could was saying, _turned on_ by it. _Fuck this fucking hot ass robot fuck_. You probably shouldn't be mentally swearing so much, but honestly, he was driving you mad and you still had hardly spoken to him.

“Ha,” You attempted a short nonchalant laugh. Fortunately it came out as genuine. “Thanks. Again.”

“No, thank _you_. You're the one 'looking out' for me, after all.” You swallowed thickly. You understood the metaphorical phone conversations that were the norm for people in organised crime, but _dear god_ did he have to sound like _that_? It might've been just your own lonely ass brain acting up, but he sounded _flirtatious_ and it was _maddening_. You scrambled to think of something to say until you heard him speak again.

“That being said, I would still like to meet with you in person again. How about next weekend? In the evening?”

“ Um, sure. Yeah.” You again wanted to slap yourself. “Where?”

“Don't worry about it. I'll pick you up.”

“Alright.”

“See you then, _____.”

“Um, right. Yeah! See you then.” You heard another one of his horribly amazing chuckles before the call ended. You remained still a moment, still dazed by the interaction, before suddenly realising what had just happened. Your new boss had invited you out for an evening. It was almost as though it were a-

“NO, STOP THAT.” Your thoughts were really going off-track now. They needed to be stopped. They were getting out of hand. Unfortunately, however, the invasive thoughts weren't done when the phrase ' _It...This sounds like a date._ ' flashed through your mind again.

“It isn't a date, you stupid brain. I've barely even spoken to him. And he's a _robot_ for fuck's sake!” You reasoned, speaking to yourself as you stood up to get yourself a drink from your kitchen. At this point, you needed it. There was a lot going on in your life and you were craving a drink followed by a nice long rest.

_'But what does it matter that he's a robot?_ ' Th thought slipped through as you poured yourself your drink. Immediately, your eyebrows drew together and you frowned deeply.

“That is _not the point_. Stop it, There's nothing weird about it, I'm just meeting my employer. In the evening. Next weekend. Nothing weird.” You said to yourself, gesturing as though it would help to convince your mind and your stubborn, desperate subconscious.

Much to your dismay, your mind was not so easily thwarted. ' _in the evening on the weekend and you're getting picked up by your hot robot boss with the delicious voice that gets you hot and bothered every time you even think about it let alone hear it even though you don't want to acknowledge that._ ' You slapped your own face for that one. It was true, sure, but it was also completely irrational. You'd literally spoken to him on only two occasions. Two.

With an iron fist, you yote the voice as far away from conscious thought as you could and collapsed onto your bed. It was late. You were tired. Your mind was saying dumb things and you needed some rest.

Allowing your face to relax from the scowl that you had been holding, you finally allowed yourself and your overactive mind to finally get a decent night's sleep.

 

Too bad the subconscious likes to make dreams.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)
> 
> No, but in all serious, I do have a quick announcement. Because The ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) Times are ever approaching, I am telling y'all now that during them, the Reader will be afab. If this upsets anyone, I apologise. I will be adding a tag to reflect this.
> 
> That being said,  
> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)


	9. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

 

It was one of those times where you had that nagging feeling in the back of your head that was so recognizable and yet so easy to ignore. The one that you would always recognise upon awakening as being the distinct recognition of a situation being a dream. Perhaps it was there to snap you out of it. To wake you up and remind you that what you were experiencing _wasn't real_.

The problem, however, was that you _really_ did not want the situation to not be real.

You lay on a bed that you couldn't exactly recognise as being your own. The Spine's hand trailed down your body, cold and metallic and downright _exquisite_. He was positioned over you, leaning down so that his head was directly beside yours, the warmth of his breath brushing over your ear. Your hands were against his chest and as he straddled your hips, you could feel his erection pressing into your thigh.

“Do you think of me often, _____? Do you touch yourself to the thought of me? The thought of my cock stretching you, of my hands caressing your body, my mouth on yours.” His voice was even lower than usual and husky with his own lust for you. The sound reverberated through you, making you moan as your eyes rolled back and you managed a weak nod as his hand dipped down towards the apex of your thighs, just short of giving you any sort of pleasure. He was teasing you and it was driving you _mad_.

Sitting up a bit, he looked down at you with an _absolutely sinful_ look on his face that sent another wave of arousal to pool between your legs.

“You're practically begging for me to fuck you. My own personal slut, begging for my cock as if you were in heat.” He punctuated his own sentence with a grind of his hips into yours. You moaned again, head tossing back. “And how could I deny you?”

He leaned back down, capturing your already open mouth in a hungry kiss, his tongue immediately darting in to caress your own. You moaned into his mouth, your hands reaching up to undo the buttons on his vest. One of his hands began to dip down towards your arousal again.

Just as his long fingers began to slip between your thighs, a loud noise cut through your mind.

 

Your eyes opened blearily as the realisation of the dream settled into your sleep-addled brain. Throwing a glare at your still blaring alarm-clock, you punched it into the wall. The fragile, cheap, piece of garbage broke and you were left to dwell in your own sexual frustration in silence. It was still too early to be fighting off your thirst, so the best you could do instead was to get up and head to your bathroom for a cold shower.

The cold water was refreshing. Mind clearing. It shocked you awake as well as a cup of coffee.

However, it wasn't quite enough to shock the _very_ clear memory of the dream out of your mind. Your face flushed as the cold water poured over you. The entire situation was ridiculous. Your thirst was out of control and you needed it to chill. Desperate to beat it back, you began reasoning out how ridiculous your dream was and how improbable it was and how your thirst was entirely irrational. Yes, his voice was _damn_ sexy, but he was a robot. And he was your boss. And, hell, he probably didn't even have a dick so you really had no idea where _that_ came from. Your imagination was going haywire, you were certain, you thought as you stepped out of the shower and dried yourself off. As you went into your kitchen, however, you couldn't seem to shake a whisper in your mind telling you to sneak a glance when you saw him on the weekend.

The situation was getting ridiculous again and you mentally slapped yourself for even considering checking whether or not he had a bulge. This was ridiculous. Even if, for some absurd reason, he _was_ fuckable, the chances of that were slim to none. Sure, human and robot romances weren't unheard of, but something told you that getting involved with _the one that was the most dangerous crime lord in The City_ was probably a bad idea and definitely not good business. There were plenty of reasons. A never ending list, really. Your thirst needed to bugger off and leave you alone. You hadn't been on a date in ages, you thought, and maybe that was part of the problem. Maybe going on a date before the weekend would help get your mind off The Spine. And you did still have Buster to call in a few days. You were feeling Wednesday.

As your mind continued to trail off on various tangents, you resolved to pay a visit to the bar again. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could hit it off with someone and get that date. You needed a distraction. Badly.

With your mind made up, you cleaned up after your breakfast and headed out to your day job.

 

You had thought, like a fool, that working your day job would provide a much welcomed distraction. You had thought that you would be engrossed in your work, your coworkers perhaps asking you how you were doing and at most talking about their lives a bit while you listened and nodded as appropriate. Just a completely normal situation. You were certain that nothing related to your 'other employment' would be in your mind whatsoever.

However, you were a fool. A complete and utter fool. An absolute idiot. You had completely forgotten _who_ had called in for you and gotten you two days off the week prior. It had completely slipped your mind. Perhaps if it hadn't, you might've been better prepared for the onslaught of questions that your overly-curious coworkers had to throw at you. Instead, you had been completely caught off guard. You sat there as they stared at you, eyes wide and imploring you for answers. “Hey _____, who was that that called for you last week?” They had asked. “ Who's your friend?” “Can you introduce me?” “Oh wait, are you dating?” “What!? ____, where'd you find a guy like that!? He sounds like he's _sex incarnate_.” “No seriously, ____, he sounded goddamn _gorgeous_.” “I...I recorded some of it.” “That's creepy but like, valid. That voice was delicious.” “He's not like, actually really gross is he?” “Please tell me he's available I'm a thirsty ho.”

_So am I_ you thought, but all you managed to say was “ He's...my friend...I uh, met him a couple weeks ago.” You had absolutely no story and you needed one and _quick_. You gleaned from their questions that he hadn't declared himself anything, only called in for you. You were grateful for that much. “Um...Yeah.”

“How did he know you were sick? He called pretty early in the morning...” “Oh. My. God. You _are_ fucking him! You lucky binch.” “Oh damn, I would've wanted a piece of that.” “You don't even know what he looks like.” “ The voice is enough.”

You were getting increasingly embarrassed by your coworkers' shameless discussions. Apparently it didn't matter what you said because they were rapidly making up their own narrative.

“I'm not fucking him.” You tried weakly. One of them gave you a sly look like they didn't believe you. You were considering giving up when your boss walked in and reminded everyone to get back to work. Your coworkers groaned. One of them, a girl you considered a work friend named Eli, leaned down before she walked away.

“You are so lucky, though ____.” She said to you before winking and returning to her desk. You flushed. You felt called out. You did not want to be thinking about this.

 

The rest of the work day had slogged on. You suffered a few more inquisitions from your coworkers, but as soon as you could, you yote yourself out of there as quickly as you could without being suspicious. At that point, you wanted a distraction and a drink more than ever.

 

You made your way to the bar that evening. Damon was on shift again, and he readied you a drink as soon as he saw your exhausted ass dragging yourself in through the door.

“Hey, _____. You look like a wreck. You doing alright?” He asked you as you took a seat at the bar. You took the drink from him graciously before throwing back a gulp.

“Hey Damon. Yeah, I'm fine. I guess. Just. Beat.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I just, need a good distraction.” You replied. Damon hummed and nodded.

“Alright, _____. If you need anything, let me know.”

“Thanks.” You said, smiling. You appreciated his efforts. You were certain, however, that hearing about people finding his robot boss hot as all hell was not something he would be prepared to listen to you chime off about.

Damon left you alone with your drink after that to go and tend to the rest of the bar. The televisions that night were tuned to a mix of sports reruns and sitcoms. You focused your attention on them for lack of anything better to distract yourself. Fortunately it worked and you were grateful to get the day out of the forefront of your mind.

Unfortunately, it worked almost too well. You weren't aware of the presence sliding you a drink until they tapped you on the shoulder. Startled, you whipped around to see a man giving you a nervous smile and sliding you another drink. He wasn't particularly attractive or ugly. Rather average, actually. His face was a bit scruffy and his hair was tousled, but something about his face didn't match. However, you honestly didn't really care.

“Sorry, didn't meant to startle you. Mind if I have a seat?” He asked, gesturing to the stool beside you, a beer in his hand.

“Sure.” You said. He smiled wider and settled onto the seat. You risked a closer glance. He was of an average build and looked as though he just left a desk job somewhere after spending hours filing papers. He held out his hand and introduced himself. Shaking his hand, you gave him your name and allowed him to strike up a conversation with you.

In all honesty, you didn't really hear half of what he was saying. You nodded and replied to him as was appropriate. It seemed like you were hitting it off with him as the conversation flowed from the sitcoms playing to relatable frustrations to how comfortable the bar was. You remained careful to divulge nothing about yourself despite your new companion's surprising talkativeness.

The night carried on as such. And on. And on. Any other time you might've been annoyed, but tonight you were grateful for the distraction. He must've taken your reactions as encouragement because he seemed to get nervous as the bar neared closing. He wrung his hands and looked around nervously.

“You okay?” You offered.

“Yeah, yeah, ahaha. It's just. Well, um...” He took a deep breath, gathering his courage. “Would you...like to get dinner with me? On Wednesday, maybe? Just, try it out?” He asked you nervously.

“Su....sure. I mean, yeah, Alright, yeah. Wednesday?”

“Yeah!”

“Okay, do you want to...meet outside here maybe?”

“Sure, yeah, that sounds fine. Great! Yeah!” He checked his watch. “Oh, we better get going. The bar is about to close.” He looked back up at you hopefully. It occurred to you that he was hoping that you'd walk with him.

“Oh, gosh, yeah. I'm going to stick around a bit though. I'll see you Wednesday!” You smiled. He returned it and bid you a friendly farewell before practically skipping out the door.

You sighed.

“Are you actually gonna go on a date with that kid?” You heard Damon ask you from across the empty bar. You stood up to leave, gathering your belongings.

“Yeah, I'll give it a go. I need a distraction.” You gave him a tired grin, letting your happy mask fall.

“Well, good luck. I'm happy for you and I hope that kid doesn't get too heartbroken.”

“What makes you so certain it won't work out?” Damon gave you a smile that suggested he knew more than he was letting on. You let it slide, however.

“Call it a hunch, _____.” You knew that tone. He knew something. However, you didn't care. You knew he was right. There was no point in arguing with yourself on that. You gave him a look that said as much.

“I'll see you next time, then, _____.” He said, as you finally paid for your drinks and made to leave.

“See you later, Damon.” He smiled and nodded and you left the bar. With your thoughts turned away from inappropriate thoughts about The Spine, you went home to (hopefully) have a long and comfortable rest.

 

 

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yehahahhahahhagh ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

 

You woke up on Wednesday early. With no alarm-clock, you had been getting used to setting your phone's alarm. You tended to miss it, however, and as such you had been setting at least three alarms for well before sunrise. Eyes bleary and mouth dry, you rose from your bed like a zombie, dismissed the alarm, and made to get ready for your day. You still had a few hours before you had to be on your way to work, but taking the extra time that morning would be worth it. After all, you had a long day ahead of you.

When you sat down to your breakfast, you ran over the day's schedule. Obviously, work would be taking up the majority of the day. You were going in early however, and as such would be leaving early as well. You were then planning on getting a late lunch and returning back to your apartment. There, you would eat your meal and give Buster a call. After that, you had to get ready for your impromptu date, which you were already regretting agreeing to. You huffed a laugh at the juxtaposition of the criminal aspect of your life with the mundane. It was a little absurd, going on a casual and probably boring date right after phoning a crime lord that you were double-crossing. You sighed and grinned before finishing your morning routine and heading out the door to your day job.

It turned out that the day was determined to start off bad. You were nearly hit by a vehicle that had ended up causing an accident and getting you stuck in traffic for an extra three hours. Fortunately, your day job boss was in traffic as well, and you escaped punishment for your severely late arrival. However, the gossip at your work was still murmuring around and you were still picking up snippets of conversations of coworkers theorizing about your life. That was fine. It was all just speculation, after all. Nothing to worry about. At all. It was all lies. You buried yourself deeper into your work, desperate to become completely ignorant of the chatter around you. After all, your boss had been late too. It was traffic. No you had not woken up late after a night with your 'Sexy Sounding Friend', as you had heard your coworkers referring to him as.

You squashed the voice in your head that had begun to whisper ' _but you want to_ ' in record time. How dare it suggest such an absurd concept. Ridiculous. Unthinkable. Inconceivable.

You ended up finishing your work in record time, too. With a pat on the back from your boss, you picked up and left on time. You had caught a few suggestive glances from a few coworkers who you were closer to, including Eli, but you ignored them with an unmatched determination. Swallowing thickly, you made your way home all the while pretending that the gossip hadn't stirred up an arousal in you at the suggestions of you _spending a night_ with your unfairly attractive robot boss.

You were practically on fire by the time you had arrived home after letting the whispers stew over your late lunch. A cold shower was sounding necessary. Maybe some music too. You needed to get that metal bastard _out of your head_.

 

An hour later had done nothing. You were still thirsting and you were out of time to try to calm yourself down. You needed to call Buster.

Pulling out the phone hidden in your kitchen again, you keyed in the number and waited, leaning against your counter. Soon enough, you heard the click and a greeting from a familiarly slimy voice on the other end.

“Hello, _____. And to what do I owe the pleasure of this evening's call?” It wasn't quite evening, but frankly you didn't give enough of a fuck to say anything.

“The problem has been taken care of.” You said, your voice stiff and cold. You didn't want this conversation to carry on any longer than was absolutely necessary.

“...I'm glad to hear that, _____.”

“Have I sufficiently proven my worth, sir?” A gross feeling settled in your chest. You decided then and there that you _really_ did not like calling him that.

“...Yes. Yes, I do think so, _____. Yes, I agree to your proposal.”

“I'm glad to hear that, sir.”

“Excellent. As such, however, I would like to reserve your services henceforth. You are under my employ as my personal... _assistant_ now, and I don't want you _assisting_ anyone else. Is that clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Excellent. Very well, _____. I will contact you when I have another assignment for you. Expect one shortly. In the meantime, inform me of any progress you make towards completing the job that I originally hired you for.”

“Understood, sir.”

“Fantastic. I will talk to you again soon. Good evening, _____.”

“Goodnight.”

You hung immediately. You had had enough of his voice. After hiding the phone again, you went to slump on your couch. It was only a minute later before a voice in your head started piping up. What if it _hadn't_ been dealt with? The Spine had said he would take care of it, but what if he hadn't finished taking care of it yet? ...You should _call him and ask_.

Flushing, you swatted at yourself, trying to ignore the underlying reason to call him. You didn't need that. At all. However, as you sat there, it occurred to you that there was a point there. Checking would be a good idea. As you got up and headed towards your bedroom, you repeated it to yourself: Checking was a good idea. It was a good idea to make sure that the problem really had been dealt with. It wouldn't do any one any good if a Becile found out that Austin was still very much alive.

You sat on your bed, your other burner phone in your hand, and your reasoning still rambling on in your head. It was a reasonable call. It was for business. It was about your job. It was to make sure that you would be safe. Hands shaking ever so slightly, you called The Spine.

He picked up fairly promptly.

“Howdy.” You stifled a giggle at the friendly tone of his greeting. He didn't need to know how much just hearing his voice had cleared up the gross residual feelings in your gut left over from your talk with Buster. He also _very much_ did not need to know that your stomach was doing cheerful back flips. You punched yourself in the gut.

“Hey. I wanted to check with you. Is Austin gone?”

“As gone as he needs to be. Did you tell Buster?”

“Yeah.”

“I'm glad you called to check, then.” You could hear a smile in his voice. You should've been irritated that he sounded like he found humor in your need to check, but you weren't. You didn't want to acknowledge why, but you weren't and that was as much as you were ready to recognise.

“I assume I will still be by to pick you up this weekend?” He continued. Your heart fluttered _which was absolutely absurd and you were going to pretend that no such thing occurred._ Heart? Fluttering? Ha, as if. It was just...arrhythmia. Maybe. Probably not.

“I'd assume so.” You grinned. Holy shit, you thought. Did you just...flirt back at him? Maybe you were overthinking. Nothing weird was happening here. Nothing. At all.

“Excellent. I'll see you then, _____.” You ignored the way your heart jumped at the sound of him saying your name.

“Yeah, fantastic!”

“Alright. Goodbye, _____.” His voice was still so warm and friendly. You quickly beat down the desire to somehow keep the call going.

“Bye.” You said, smiling, before hanging up. You stashed the phone back in your night stand before slapping your own face for smiling. Why were you smiling!? There was no reason to be smiling. Stop that. None of that nonsense. _He was just your boss, damn it._

You checked the time only to realize with horror that you only had an hour to meet your date at the bar. It took you about half an hour just to get there. You were already running late. With a speed rarely seen in your home, you rushed to take a shower, get dressed, and leave.

 

You ended up being about ten minutes late. When you saw your date there, sitting on the bench, you apologised for making him wait. He smiled congenially and said that it was fine. You gave him an apologetic smile.

Offering his hand he suggested getting to the restaurant, less you miss your reservation. You smiled, took his hand, and allowed him to walk you to what would turn out to be a painfully dull and awkward date.

The dinner seemed to take ages. It was probably a few hours, but that was still a ridiculously long time to be sitting at a restaurant. The restaurant had been designed for romantic and courting couples and the waitstaff seemed determined to increase your date's chances at a good evening. However, you were only feeling worse and worse about your impulsive decision to go on the date. To make matters more uncomfortable, neither of you seemed to know what to say. Sure enough, your date had a perfectly normal and generic job. He had talked about it for awhile and you had told him about your day job, but that topic didn't last long and you were left sitting awkwardly trying to find another topic to discuss.

After a few hours of dinner, dessert, and awkward topic searching only for nothing to quite hit it off, you finally left the restaurant. A short distance away, once the two of you had walked away from the bustle of the restaurant, he stopped walking and turned to you.

“Hey, ____, so uh, I _was_ going to ask if you wanted to take a walk in the park, but uh...it's been a pretty awkward night, I know. So, um, we can call it a night if you want. I'm sorry I wasted your time like this.” He said, rubbing his neck and giving you an apologetic smile. How the heck were you supposed to respond to that!? You returned his smile.

“That's alright. I guess we're just...not a good fit for each other, huh.” He gave a little laugh in reply.

“No, I guess not. But maybe we can still try to be friends?” His voice was hopeful. After a bit of consideration, you agreed.

“Sure. Yeah, that sounds great.” You smiled.

“Cool. Um, will you be alright getting back to the bar? I live pretty close to here so...” He trailed off. You laughed.

“Yeah, I'll be fine.” You replied.

“Cool! Alright, then. Goodnight _____.” He said, turning to walk away from you.

“Goodnight!” You waved to him and turned to walk back to the bar after seeing him wave back.

 

The walk back to the bar was filled with relief. The ordeal had been awkward and you were honestly glad to be out of his company. When you saw the bar come into view, you decided to go in and tell Damon about your evening. He had been right, after all. You could see him rushing about inside. He seemed to see you approaching as he looked up and paused before continuing to rush around. By the time you had gotten to the door, he had stopped and taken his position behind the counter.

The first thing you noticed when you walked in was that there was the faintest scent of bleach. Looking over to your friend, you noticed he had a strange expression on his face. Something like a suppressed grin and stifled laugh, but also something warm. You weren't sure what was going on, but you didn't much care. He probably had had a good tip, or something. Looking around, however, you noticed that the bar was empty.

“Not much business tonight, Damon?”

“No, there was.” He replied, grinning and moving to make you a drink. You gave him an inquisitive look as you took a seat at the bar. Glancing around again at the very much empty establishment, you noticed a bottle of bleach on the counter with another on the ground nearby.

“Are you suggesting...that...the smell of bleach chased them all away?” Your tone was disbelieving. Damon blinked a few times before gathering his wits and replying.

“Something like that, maybe. Thing is, I had to ask them all to leave.”

“But you haven't objected to my being here.” You pointed out as he handed you your drink. He flashed you a smile that said he knew something you didn't.

“You're a different matter. Anyways, how did your night go?” You opted to ignore his deflection. He definitely knew something you didn't, but whatever it was was, judging by his grins, harmless. You could interrogate him later. After all, you had come to tell him about your evening, not to question him on the peculiar emptiness of the bar or the faint smell of bleach that, you were realising, seemed to be stronger than when you had first walked in.

 

Damon had, predictably, gotten a good laugh out of your run through of your boring and awkward date. You had long finished your drink and wanted to chat with him longer, however the bleach in the air had gotten a fair bit stronger. Damon was also getting twitchy. Something was afoot. You had also begun to take notice that the smallest amount of steam was rising up from between the floorboards. It must've been coming from a cellar, you thought. You wanted to know what was going on. However, the smell of bleach had become too strong and your eyes had begun watering.

“Hey. Damon. I...I don't know what's going on, but I'm going to leave you to whatever you were doing.”

“Um, yeah, yeah. Yeah, that's...that's probably a good idea.” He responded, holding a cloth over his nose.

“Don't expect me not to ask the next time I'm by, though.” You warned with a severe glance. Damon only laughed through the towel.

“Trust me, _____. You'll know eventually.” He told you as you made your way to the exit. It sounded ominous, but you merely waved and bid your friend goodbye before heading home.

 

It was too bad you didn't take another look back. But then again, if you had, you probably would've only had more questions.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> WHAT'S THIS!? TWO CHAPTERS IN ONE UPDATE!?!?!??!?!?! AND IT'S A LONG ONE!?!?!??!?!?! YEHHSHWHAHHAHAGH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

The next two days dragged on miserably slowly. You were in A Funk TM, so to speak. Work was average and slow. Your coworkers were still gossiping, not that you cared. It only grated at your nerves. You hadn't heard from your date-turned-acquaintance, but you supposed that was a good thing. Conversation didn't exactly thrive between the two of you.

By the time Saturday rolled around, you found yourself reclining on your couch with your breakfast. You had tried dropping by the bar both Thursday and Friday, but Damon had closed up shop to air out the chemical vapors. With no company or friends who were actually free, you were left bored and unoccupied. You hadn't been contacted by any new clients, Buster hadn't spoken to you since Wednesday, and you hadn't gotten a call from The Spine either.

...Your eyes jolted open in surprise when you realised that you had nearly forgotten that The Spine had said he would call you on he weekend. However, you slumped back down into your couch when you once again ran over the fact that he hadn't yet called you.

You had nothing to do.

You were in a slump.

It was only nine in the morning.

 

Saturday afternoon did not show any improvement. At the very least, you had eaten. You were contemplating going to bed very, very early, when you heard a telltale buzz rattling your nightstand drawer.

In retrospect, you refused to acknowledge your movement as a 'lunge' or a 'dive'. It was...just a hasty reach for the phone. It was important you answer before the ringer ended. It was professional, nothing more. You flipped open the phone and answered.

“Hello?” You wheezed in a voice that sounded, in hindsight, rather suggestive and was absolutely a mistake. That goddamn chuckle rang out over the line.

“I didn't....interrupt...anything, did I?” Holy shit. His voice with a tone _that_ suggestive should be outlawed. Maybe removed from his programming. God, you were dying and The Spine had barely said a single sentence to you.

“Um uh um, no, nO No! No, nothing, I'm fine. Um, what's up?” Oh fuck. You were flustered. You were _weak_. You really needed to get your goddamn composure together. Unfortunately for that plan, he laughed. Just barely more than a chuckle, but _dear god_ you _needed_ to hear that again.

“I told you Wednesday that I would call you this weekend.” You hummed in the affirmative. “Are you clear tonight?” You sat up straighter, blinking.

“Yeah, yeah I am.”

“Fantastic. I'll be by to pick you up tonight, then. Will ten tonight be okay with you?” You slapped yourself for thinking 'Anytime is great as long as it's with you.' What was wrong with you where was your mind going you really needed to _pull it the fuck together._

...He was laughing again.

“That's a _pleasure_ to hear. I'll see you tonight, _____.” With that said, the click of the phone hanging up echoed in your ear. Did...Did he just... _flirt_ with you!? You were breathing heavy, stunned silent merely by the sound of that one word rolling off his tongue the way it had.

It took you a moment, but it finally hit you.

“OH FUCK.” You exclaimed, realising that you had said your dumb line about anytime being great _out loud_. With a sigh, you flopped on down on your bed and covered you burning face with your hands.

This hot ass robot man was going to be your end, you were sure of it. Hell, at this rate he just might finish you off himself.

 

As ten o'clock rolled around, you showered, dressed yourself, and waited with the burner phone in hand. Why the hell did you feel like some teenager on a date? This was a professional meeting of colleagues. Or at least, that's what you kept telling yourself.

The phone rang at five minutes to the hour.

“Hey.”

“I'm downstairs.”

“Alright, I'll be right down.” The phone clicked off. As you headed down, you actually started believing that maybe you could handle yourself with composure through the evening. You hadn't lost it that time. You would be fine. Totally fine. Your composure was unshakable. You were a wall. A wall made of _steel_. ...That was fifty feet thick. Yeah. No losing it now. You were _solid._

When you slid into the car, you didn't even glance over at him.

...That is, until he spoke.

“Well, hello there.” Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. You had forgotten just how _amazing_ his voice sounded in person. It was like _pure melted gold –_ deep, rich, and _very,very hot._ Turning to look at him and return the hello, your breath caught. You managed a weak “hey.” and stared as he chuckled softly, his chest moving with the laughter. Your eyes trailed over his neck, tracing the curves of the silver until it disappeared beneath the shirt and vest. Ah fuck, you had gone and forgotten just how stupidly _gorgeous_ he was, too. You were fucked. Not literally. You wish. You mentally slapped yourself for that one.

The drive passed mostly in silence. You refused to look at him, certain that one more glance and you'd slip up and actually physically slap yourself again or something. It was a shame you didn't. Otherwise you might've noticed his glowing green eyes glancing at you and running across your form. Oh well. Your loss.

You did glance once when you realised something.  
“Hey, don't...don't you have...y'know...like...how are you sitting there when you have those massive...spikes coming out of your back?” You watched his as he shifted his gaze to you and raised a brow, grinning.

“They're retractable.” He said simply, looking back at the road, but still grinning. You blushed and were thankful for the dark. It was a silly question, you supposed, but it was worth asking just for the grin that he affected. Ugh, you were being sappy.

 

The car arrived at the park fairly soon after. Looking around, you noticed that not a single other vehicle was near. It was late, that wasn't surprising. You were just about to reach for the door when it swung open for you. The Spine's hand reached out. You hadn't even noticed him get out of the vehicle and now this _fuck_ was helping you out of the car. Swallowing thickly, you took his hand and allowed him to pull you up.

Which was a goddamn _mistake_ and _fuck him._ As you fell forward into his arms and were pulled into his chest, you decided that you were certain that he had pulled too hard on purpose. This was intentional, that absolute shit. Why was he doing this. Fuck. ...He was warm. His arms wrapped around you, keeping you upright as you got yourself standing. Your hands and face had landed against his chest and you could hear the clicking, whirring, and hissing of his machinery and hydraulics working away like a mechanical heartbeat. He was...so pleasantly warm. You were nearly in a trance when you felt him laughing again.

“Comfortable, are we?” His voice was filled with mirth and your face was suddenly burning. You stepped away as he released you from his hold and looked away, desperate to pretend that you hadn't once again made a fool of yourself. You really needed to get a grip. This was your _boss_ , for fuck's sake.

“Here, walk with me.” You did, and you were soon walking along the deserted park path side by side as the old lamps flickered in and out. After a ways of pleasant sauntering, he spoke.

“So. About your employment to me.”

“Yes, sir?” You defaulted into your habit of referring to your employers as sir, but _fuck._ Maybe you shouldn't have done that. The Spine shot you an odd smirk that only had you regretting saying that more.

“I understand that your preferred method of, uh, elimination is through, uh, artillery and explosives. When I give you a target in the Becile family, you will need to be, uh, more subtle.”

“Oh. Oh, yeah, I figured as much.” You replied. Fortunately, the talk about your employment was grounding you.

“Can I trust, then, that that won't be a problem?”

“Yes, sir.” Oh, there was something about that was lighting a fire in you and you really needed to never call him sir again. He gave the odd smirk again and his eyes flashed. What was that?

“I'll give you specifics, but it won't be easy. But...that comes with the job, doesn't it.” You gave a solemn smile and nodded as he looked at you. “Lovely, _____. So, now that the business talk is out of the way, why don't we just...chat.” Oh no you really didn't see that coming. Shit. “It is a lovely night, after all.”

“Yeah.” You agreed. “Alright. Why not. Can I ask you a question then?”

“Of course.”

“Why are you called The Spine?” You meant it genuinely. However, as you saw his face light up with a massive grin and his glowing green eyes brighten as they looked at you, you became concerned. He had the expression of someone who was about to tell a terrible joke and you could only hope that he wouldn't. ...You could also let yourself be distracted by how ridiculously _adorable_ he looked like that. This was absurd, how could he go from mind meltingly hot to ridiculously adorable just with a change of expression.!? You were losing it, you were certain. But, _damn_ he really was cute like this.

“Well you see.” He began, voice lilting. Something about it seemed musical and you mentally struck yourself before you could start thinking about him doing something musical. God forbid. You would most certainly die. He continued. “I was built with a titanium alloy spine!” He stopped walking, swayed, and pointed to his back. “That's my _back_ story!” You stared at him before your mouth broke into a bright smile and you barked out quite possibly the ugliest laugh. He did it. He really fucking did it. He told a bad joke based on his own damn name. You were wheezing. Looking up at him, you noticed he was smiling at you, his white teeth showing from between his black lips. Hell, he really was gorgeous, what the actual fuck. You pulled yourself together, but you were still smiling.

“That was hella dorky, Spine.” You told him. He huffed a laugh and looked down, before raising his gaze back to you, his mouth set back into a smirk. Oh boy, did he really just alternate between hot and cute like this? You swore under your breath.

“Pardon?” He asked. He was still grinning.

“Nothing, let's just...keep walking.” You told him.

 

You eventually found yourselves halfway around the massive park. The conversation was thriving. He had had stories of all sorts from his past to interject with as he asked you about things like how your week had been and your day job. Things he new you had, but seemed interested in hearing what you thought. You were midway through describing how utterly dull your last couple of days were when the telltale clunking noise of a certain ice cream stand became audible around the bend.

“Oh, hey I used to love that ice cream stand.”

“He's probably still open.”

“Do you...know him?” He huffed a laugh again.

“No, as robots don't eat. But Rabbit does, since she keeps trying to eat things anyways.” There was a tinge of annoyance in his voice.

“Rabbit? I'll admit I heard you mention them when I was, um, spying and all, but can I ask who that is?”

“Sure. She, along with the other robots leading the Syndicate, were built by the same man that built me. She happened to be in the same year as me.”

“Kinda like... being robot twins.” You mused. He smiled.

“Yeah, kinda. They all certainly know how to bother me like siblings, anyhow.” He sighed, but you recognised the warmth in his voice. Even if they were annoying, those other robots were still family to him. You figured you could ask more some other time. ...Maybe.

“Hey, can I ask...why are you telling me all this?”

“You're telling me a lot about yourself too, aren't you?”

“True, but...why trust me?”

“Because I know you won't betray me. After all, that would be horribly in your worst interests.” His voice had dropped and gotten dangerous. He was right. Even if you wanted to betray him, retribution would be swift and at least tenfold. It wasn't worth attempting to begin with. It reminded you just who you were chatting with on that lovely evening night.

“Oh hey.” He called, voice lightening again. “He's still open. Would you like to get some?” You looked up. Sure enough, the two of you had rounded the bend and you could now see that the ice cream stand was very much still open.

“Yeah, actually. You don't mind the detour, do you?” You asked him. He smiled warmly.

“Not at all. Go ahead. I'll wait over here.” He said, walking over to lean against a lamppost. You spun around, trying to ignore how good he looked doing that. Honestly he looked a little too good doing just about everything. You drew a hand over your face as you came up to the ice cream stand's window.

` The stand was and always had been run about a rather odd looking robot. He looked like he had stepped out of The Jetsons, what with his freezer chest, ice cream scoops for hands, and long tube like arms.

“G-g-g-g-g-g-g-good evening, m-m-miss. W-w-what can I g-g-get for you this l-l-l-l-l-l-l-lovely night?” His voice was as mechanical as they came. For a long time when you were younger, you had assumed that robots were like this on average. As you had grown older however, and recognised more of the citizens as the robots they were, you were left with the sad realisation the the Ice Cream Man was much less sophisticated and knew only his job and nothing more. Smiling despite that and because you knew the Ice Cream Man appreciated the gesture, you placed your order.

“Can I get two scoops of Platypus Surprise in a cone, please?” Platypus Surprise was something akin to moose tracks and rocky road, and the name had always delighted you. The Ice Cream Man moved quickly and smoothly before passing you your ice cream cone. You gave him the payment, thanked him, and turned to return to where The Spine had been waiting for you.

“Shall we, uh, shall we continue on?” He asked you pushing off from the pole as you licked the cone. That was odd, you were almost certain you had heard him do the same thick swallow that you were used to hearing when something was flustering. Brushing it off, you hummed in affirmation and the two of you continued walking at a slow, leisurely pace.

You were very engrossed in licking and sucking the ice cream. After all, you didn't want it to drip. To be fair it was very good ice cream. You were distantly aware that the whole act of eating it was terribly suggestive, but keeping the ice cream from dripping and eating it were taking priority. You glanced up at The Spine at one point, just to make sure he wasn't feeling weird or anything. However, when your eyes met his wide-opened brightly glowing ones, you quickly reverted your gaze forward and resumed dragging your tongue up the ice cream from where you had paused upon making eye contact with him. Had he...had he been staring at you? And why were his eyes glowing so brightly all of a sudden? You would wonder later. It couldn't have been because of how suggestive you looked, right? After all, he was a robot. Did he even have a- you remembered mid bite that you had lowkey wanted to sneak a glance at his crotch. Hm. Bad timing. What if he was still looking at you. You shoved the thought out of your head to be dealt with later and focused on finishing the cone.

By the time you had finished, you were three quarters of the way around the park. The Spine had not said anything and you were fairly certain that you had heard his breathing deepen in there at some point.

“Mm, I always did like the ice cream there.” You commented, hoping to break the silence that had settled. Not that it was uncomfortable. Well, it was, but it was because there was something in the air that you were pretty sure you weren't ready to acknowledge the existence of.

“I'm glad you enjoyed it.” He responded, smiling again. Was it your imagination or did he seem a little...flustered himself? The two of you walked on in silence awhile longer. It was comfortable silence this time, however.

Comfortable, that is, until your dumb ass decided to take advantage of his forward focus at one point. You couldn't believe that you were going to do it. And yet, as your eyes trailed over his face, down his neck, and slowly, ever so damn slowly over his torso, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. Swallowing thickly, you let your gaze drift lower, lower over his honestly really tight pants, over the terribly fine curve of his ass, and finally forward to -

You clapped a hand over you face and made an embarrassing squeak that you masked by pretending to trip. Even though this wasn't an anime, you were certain your nose would start a comical nosebleed any second. Oh hell, you were doomed. No more excuses to beat away the fantasies with now. Fuck.

“Are you alright?” His deep, deep, voice resonated over to you, nearly sending you into a fog. You were definitely going to need some time when you got home.

“Y-yeah, yeah I'm, I'm good. Just uh, tripped and, um, bit my tongue is all.” You said, smiling and huffing a laugh. He seemed to buy it when he gave you a soft smile. Ah jeez, he had no right to be that sweet and cute looking what the fuck.

“Alright, if you say so. We're almost back to the parking lot.” He said. You smiled, said “Okay.” and continued walking beside him. Unfortunately, you were left to your own thoughts again. Thought that, embarrassingly enough, went right back to work screaming over the fact that _holy shit he dick too big for he got damn pants_. The goddamn zipper was fucking _straining._ Fuck!!! You were done for. Slain. Ended. He needed new pants _the zipper looked like it was ready to bust._ Who let him go out and about like that _who let him have a dick let alone one that big_ OoPs you were drooling.

Wiping your mouth as discreetly as possibly, you saw that the car was in sight. As much as you honestly had enjoyed The Spine's company for the evening, you were also ready to go home, especially since you had a newfound need for some time to yourself.

True to form, The Spine opened the passenger side door for you. You got in, thanking him. He smiled before getting in and starting the car. As he drove you home, he spoke again.

“In two weeks, there will be a Syndicate meeting. I'd like for you to be there. Would that be alright?” You blinked at the request, out of the blue as it was.

“Yes, I can be there.”

“Good. Shall I pick you up again?” He smirked as he said this. He already knew the answer, the bastard.

“Yes, that sounds good to me.” You smiled back at him.

“Wonderful.” And with that, you realised that he had already pulled up to your apartment building. Just as you were about to reach for your door, you felt the long fingers of his hand touch your wrist, stopping you.

“_____, it was a pleasure spending the evening with you.” He said, his eyes burning into your own. “If...if, uh, it would be alright with you, I'd like to, um, spend an evening with you again some time.” He said. You realised a small amount of steam was rising up from between the plates in his neck. His eyes were still searching yours, waiting for your answer.

“I'd love that.” You replied, honest and smiling. He smiled back, withdrawing his hand. You immediately missed the contact, but you shoved that sentiment out of the way.

“Fantastic. I'll see you soon, _____. Goodnight.” He said, as you opened the door and got out.

“Goodnight, Spine.” You smiled and waved before closing the door and walking away, the sounds of the car speeding off quickly fading away.

When you got back inside your apartment, you immediately slumped against your wall. The night had taken more turns than you had anticipated. You had expected a meeting. You had expected business. But what you had gotten...it had felt so much like a date. And then _he had asked you to join him again sometime_!? This was too much. He was your boss.

But he was also deliciously attractive, with a voice to match, and more than enough strain in his pants to be outlawed, not that that would make much of a difference considering that he was already a crime lord.

You ran a hand through your hair. Sighing, you made your way to your bedroom. You had a rather pressing problem to attend to, after all. Pondering over The Spine and the meeting in two weeks could wait. Thanks to The Spine, you were in desperate need of release, and you'd be damned if you were going to stop yourself from fantasizing now.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh, did you think that you'd be the only one thirsting here!? Bahahhahahahha!! ( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)( ° ͜ʖ °)


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YEHAHAHAHAAGH I'm finally at it again! I want to apologise up front for my brief absence. I had taken a break to focus on some art pieces that I needed to do. That said, I am indeed writing this again and will be trying to update a little more frequently! Bahahahha sorry y'all owo
> 
> Update: I have seen y'all's comments and worry not! The next chapter is indeed on its way!!

 

Three days before the day of the meeting, the sun rose from behind a thick layer of heavy, dark clouds. A downpour was imminent, and was likely to persist over the next week. The Spine sighed as he looked out at the dark sky from the window of the very office where he had redressed your wound. He smiled at the memory, photographically clear. He closed the curtain and sat back down in the office chair. There were three days until the meeting and there were _issues_ to address. Issues that brought an uncharacteristic scowl to his face.

It was still early in the morning. Gulping down some water and releasing some pent up steam, The Spine stood up to start the rounds. Taking the secret passageway behind the bookcase, he made his way down to the Old City. Beyond the train station and far across the massive subterranean expanse, The Spine eventually arrived at his destination: a now underground water inlet still lined with near countless shipping containers. It had once been the old shipping dock, but when the new city had been built and expanded, it had extended over the old docks as well. It hadn't been very structurally sound, but that had been since been amended. Glancing up at the elaborate and honestly somewhat over decorated scaffoldings and support structures that had been erected, The Spine allowed himself a small grin before quickly making his way down a tall metal stairwell. The clanging noises of his footfalls echoed out over the old docks, announcing his impending arrival. His lopsided grin grew a bit, knowing full well that there were a few thugs in particular that were more than likely quivering as they awaited his appearance.

Carefully, so as not to crush the iron door any more than it already had been, he pushed open the door at the bottom of the stairwell and stepped out onto the lower level of the old docks. There, a number of thugs were milling about. Upon hearing the door swing open, they looked up and stilled.

“Good morning, gentlemen.” The Spine's smooth voice rang clear. “So who can tell me where Ramirez and Booth are.” He asked, a hiss of steam escaping as he scanned the small crowd. Someone towards the back turned around and shouted into the labyrinth of containers and barrels.

“Hey, Ramirez! Booth! The boss wants a word with you two.” He called, an accent tinting his words. A moment passed before the sound of nervous shuffling began to fill the void. The Spine tilted his head as he affected the Neutral Expression of So Very Done With Y'all's Shit.

“Tracy, right?” he said, addressing the thug who had called for the other two. “Come here.” he said, lifting a hand and beckoning with a single twitch of his long metal fingers. Tracy promptly made his way to stand in front of his boss.

“Keep your voice down, but tell me. Where, supposedly, are Ramirez and Booth?” The Spine's voice was low, slow, and dangerous. Knowing that he was safe from his boss's wrath, Tracy responded in a quiet but steady tone..

“They said they were going to go take inventory of the crates at the back.”

“Aren't those the crates from last month?” Tracy nodded, and The Spine raised his head back up and looked out towards the labyrinth. A slight smirk pulled up the corner of his mouth. Looking back down towards Tracy, The Spine rested a hand on his shoulder.

“Thank you, Tracy. In gratitude for your loyalty and honesty, you'll be taking Booth's position.” Tracy stuttered out a thanks before The Spine stepped away, leaving Tracy to walk over to some of the other thugs. As the Spine walked calmly towards the labyrinth, he could hear them whispering about Tracy's new position and the reaffirmed understanding that it was always best to not try to betray the boss. A satisfied smile made its way onto the Spine's face as he stepped away from the congregation and into the meandering and intertwining pathways created by the towering stacks of shipping containers.

There _were_ lights and lamps interspersed throughout the maze, but with the lights routinely kept dark with very few exceptions, the maze was left in complete and utter darkness.

...Not that The Spine really gave a flying fuck. He _was_ a robot, after all. His eyes glowed in the dark, his photo-receptors picking up the smallest hints of reflected light and amplifying them. It may as well have been broad daylight as he swiftly made his way through the twisting paths. He knew where he was going, and he had traversed every inch of the labyrinth thoroughly. He huffed as he rapidly approached the furthest end of the docks and rolled his eyes when he caught sight of a stray flashlight beam blatantly giving away his target's position.

Sure enough, he rounded a corner and at the end of the path stood two thugs crouched over a large case in the open shipping container at the bottom of the stack. The Spine crossed his arms and managed to look like the epitome of disappointment.

“Ramirez. Booth.” The Spine spoke calmly and steadily, his voice carrying just as much disappointment in it as his face did. The two thugs turned around. The younger of the two, Ramirez, took on an award winning impression of a deer caught in headlights, but Booth was the one who had guilt written in bold across his entire person.

“B-boss! Oh, oh shit, Oh shit! Boss! I swear, ohmygod-” Ramirez began before cutting himself off as The Spine held up his hand.

“Booth, I am so disappointed in you.” The Spine said, arms crossed. Uncrossing them, The Spine slowly walked forward to stand directly in front of Booth.

“You know, there is a reason the other members don't try to cheat me. I guess you decided to go against the warnings, though. It's bad enough you tried to steal from me, but to rope Ramirez into it? You knew he's young and new to the organisation. Now-” Before The Spine could continue, Booth's shiftiness finally came to a head as he attempted to bolt. Just as he dodged to The Spine's left, The Spine's arm shot out, his hand catching Booth in the chest, and he shoved him backwards as easily as if he had simply been moving his arm through the air. Booth went flying backwards, landing on his back against the container. He groaned in pain.

“That was a stupid idea and you knew it. Now you probably have a few cracked ribs because I probably shoved you with a bit more force than was strictly necessary.” The Spine turned his head to Ramirez. “ _Don't_ follow his example.” With that said, The Spine stepped forward and crouched in front of Booth, who was still groaning. “Stop whining, you knew that was going to happen!” He said, his voice yeeting up a whole damn octave in his irritation. The Spine heaved a heavy sigh and pinched the bridge of his nose before continuing. Swiftly, and with the Look Of Unfathomable Disappointment, he reached down, grabbed Booth's wrist, and held it aloft so that his wrist was at his eye-level.

“You knew this was the punishment, didn't you? Everyone knows that this is the punishment.” The Spine began to slowly, slowly tighten his grip on Booth's wrist. “You know, most of the organisation thinks that I'm too nice about punishments.” His grip was still tightening, slowly but steadily. Booth's eyes began to widen and his breathing began to pick up as he started to realise what was going to happen. “Most of the other criminal organisations would've had you simply shot dead. But, you see,” Booth was breathing very heavily now. The Spine's grip had reached the point of bruising and was still slowly and steadily closing in. “I see that as a waste of a workforce. The Syndicate is the largest criminal organisation in The City, and that's partially because I don't have every offender killed. ...Of course, that does also depend on the offense and whether or not it's the first. Now Boot, you'll have to listen to me here. This is your first offense, and it was only trying to steal goods and money. In the grand scheme of things, that's not so bad. So, I'm letting you off _easy_.” The Spine's grip was moments away from breaking a bone in Booth's wrist, and Booth was starting to whimper again. “Now, if you attempt to double-cross me again in any way whatsoever, you will not survive. _I don't give a third chance_. As part of the repercussions of your actions, you have also been demoted. Are we clear?” Booth nodded rapidly, his face red and his chest heaving. “Good. I will inform Zero of these changes. He'll be down here to check in in three days time. Please try to not be _too_ useless without the use of this hand.” And with the end of that sentence, the first bone in Booth's wrist finally gave in and snapped. “Please keep your screaming to be a minimum.” The Spine sighed as Booth let out a strangled and pained cry. The Spine rolled his eyes. “Also, if I find out that you tried to _cause trouble_ , I will be back, and I will consider it a second offense, and I will not hesitate.” The second bone gave way with another sickening snap. Ramirez looked queasy. Booth, after releasing another strangled cry, passed out. Sighing, The Spine closed his fist, crushing Booth's wrist entirely. The Spine rose to his feet and turned his head to Ramirez.

“You're free to go, as this isn't your mess. I understand that you were goaded into assisting him. You'll have to carry his body back to the others, but I won't hurt you. Just take this as fair warning that you should _never_ attempt to cross me. Are we clear?”

“Ye-yes sir!” Ramirez nodded before going to heave Booth's body over his shoulder and making to leave the maze, his hand reaching down to unclip a flashlight from his belt. As The Spine watched him walk away into the darkness, he released yet another sigh. The issue was dealt with, but it was always a shame when someone needed a lesson. Reaching up and adjusting his hat, The Spine continued on his way towards his next matter of business.

 

Beyond the old docks and hidden amongst the support structures was a tunnel that led into a cavern. The cavern it led to had a small opening itself that led out onto a small landing hidden beneath Pier No.3 on the surface. The Spine made his way there, certain that he would find the bot that he was looking to check with somewhere in the cavern.

Sure enough, the brass steambot sat on a rock overlooking the water, an old fishing pole in his hands. A soft and affectionate look overcame The Spine's face. The Jon always had been naturally endearing. Walking up behind him, The Spine spoke softly, careful not to be too loud in the echo-prone chamber.

“Hello, The Jon. Are you... fishing? I thought you agreed with Rabbit that fishing was boring.” The Spine said, walking up from behind The Jon and looking into the strangely crystal clear water below.

“Oh, hello The Spine.” The Jon's amicable voice echoed softly in the chamber while his attention remained focused on the fish visible deep in the water. “What would you like to know today?” The Spine raised an eyebrow. Usually The Jon was a bit more energetic than this.

“Are you feeling alright, Jon?”

“Hm? Oh, yeah I'm doing greeeaaat.” The Spine drew his brows together and frowned slightly. The Jon must have noticed as he continued. “You were right, Spine. Fishing can be relaxing for some people. I guess I'm o- WAIT MOVE I'VE GOT ONE.” The Spine quickly took a large step back as The Jon jumped to his feet, his gangly body suddenly thrown into his ever goofy motion as he yanked and pulled at the pole. Despite how ineffective it looked, The Jon was soon holding the end of the line in his hand, a fairly large fish dangling and wriggling on the end.

“What...What do you do with the fish you catch?” The Spine asked, watching as The Jon seemed to study his catch before sitting back down on his rock. Breaking the line, he carefully removed the hook from the fish's mouth and threw it back into the water.

“I let them go. It's not like I have any need to keep them.” The Jon answered, a soft smile pulling at his mouth.

“Well, I think that, that's real fine of you, Jon. This has been, this has been a nice thing to have seen you doing.”

“Thanks.” The Jon smiled before sighing lightly. “So, what did you come to see me about?”

“What, I can't just visit my friends?”

“The Syndicate takes too much time and effort to run for you to be just visiting, Spine.” The Spine cracked a smirk. He was right, after all.

“Tell me what's going on.” The Jon huffed before replying.

“There's five barges headed directly to The City from three different foreign ports and two other states. There's also three schooners coming in from across the sea, also carrying shipments for us. The schooners will be here in about three months, the barges in two to three weeks.”

“Thank you, Jon. Did you put shipments on schooners intentionally?” The Jon turned his head towards The Spine and grinned a massive grin that was practically like writing “You damn well know it” in bold on his face. The Spine huffed a laugh in response. Of course. Still smiling, and quietly laughing along, The Jon turned his attention back to the waters. The Spine paused a moment before opening his mouth to continue.

“There's also the meeting in three days. You'll be there, won't you?”

“I miss ONE meeting and now you never get off my case, _do ya_.” The Jon's odd articulations were so endearing that even so, The Spine still grinned.

“It's about the next heist. I doubt you'll want to miss it.” The Spine said. The Jon waved his hand.

“Yeah yeah, I'll _be_ there, gosh.” He answered, drawing out the 'gosh'. The Spine patted his shoulder.

“Good to hear that, buddy.” He said, before beginning to make his way out of the cavern.

“I'll see you in three days, Spine!” The Jon called behind him. Lifting a hand to wave, The Spine called back, “Three days, at The Speakeasy, Jon.” And with that, The Spine hoisted himself up onto Pier No.3 in a rather astonishing display of completely unexpected but also somehow not surprising parkour. Not surprising, that is, in that he more climbed up the rock by merely grasping and crushing the rock face into handholds as he went. Arriving at the top and soon standing on Pier No. 3, The Spine radioed a nearby Syndicate member to give him a lift. After all, The City was large and Rabbit's hideout was on the other side of it.

 

The City really was enormous. It took _nearly two hours_ to drive to the other side of The City and reach Rabbit's hideout. High atop a skyscraper just bordering the industrial district was a penthouse that functioned much the same as The Spine's office with the added bonus of being where Rabbit lived regularly. Thanking the Syndicate member who had driven him here and giving him a generous bonus for doing it, The Spine got out of the car and headed into the building. The building was staffed with Syndicate employees and the one managing the front desk nodded in salute as he walked in. The Spine waved amicably as he walked onward and boarded one of the elevators.

The elevators in Rabbit's building had glass windows that overlooked the river that separated the residential and commercial districts from the industrial districts. The Spine looked out at the industrial districts as the elevator rose, making a mental note to ask about how things were going out there. Soon enough, the elevator chimed, having arrived at its destination. The Spine turned around and stepped forward into the building's penthouse. Rabbit was standing at a window overlooking the rest of The City, or at least as much as could be viewed. The Spine walked to stand next to her.

“Hey Spine.” She greeted.

“Hey Rabbit.”

“So. Nice, day huh.” The Spine raised an eyebrow and looked at her from his periphery.

“Something you, uh, you want to, uh, tell me, Rabbit?” Rabbit smiled, her eyes wild.

“W-w-well it's just that I want you t-t-t-to know that I always support you in y-y-your relationships, Spine. So what did you want to talk about today?” The Spine gave her a frustrated and suspicious glare to which she only grinned knowingly, as though she was aware of something that he wasn't.

“Um, okay. So anyways, what's been happening in your end of town?”

“N-nothing unusual. Everything is in order. Really, Spine, I t-tell you when something's different, _gosh_ , don't be such a dummins.” The Spine shot her a long-suffering look.

“Come on, you're just here to chat and say hi, just adm-mit it, already.” She said playfully. The Spine rolled his eyes.

“Alright, fine!” He threw his hands up before crossing his arms, his voice pitching up before he brought it back down in a long suffering sigh. “How are you, Rabbit.” She gave a massive grin.

“I'm doing great, Spine. Still taking your diarrhea medicine? S-s-s-still being a w-weak baby?”

“Rabbit, we're robots we don't have digestive systems.” He glanced over to see her smiling, her shoulders bouncing with stifled laughter. “And what do you mean weak baby, Rabbit?”

“Oh, you kn-kn-know.”

“I know?” The Spine looked towards her again.

“You know.” Knitting his brows together and narrowing his eyes, The Spine turned his head back forwards.

“I-I'm not certain I _do_ Rabbit. Care to explain?" Somehow, he had the feeling that this wasn't a question he'd be happy having asked.

“You know what I'm talking about Spine.” The Spine sighed again.

“I'm not sure I do, but fine. You will be at the meeting in three days, right?”

“Me? Missing a _heist_ meeting? Th-that's a good one, Spine.” The Spine rolled his eyes and smiled.

“Of course. I should have known. Alright, Rabbit, I've still got to go see Hatchworth so I'll, uh, be going.” He turned to leave. As he turned, Rabbit turned her head to address him.

“They're really pretty. Don't wait too long, Spine. Buster's got his eye on them too, in more than a just a professional way and I'd hate to see your heart broken because you were too careful.” Rabbit told him, voice soft and both strangely gentle and unusually mysterious. The Spine gave her a strange look from the corner of his eye, as if to say, 'right, because I absolutely know what you're talking about.' Rabbit smiled and swayed a little in response. Rolling his eyes for what must've been the umpteenth time that day, The Spine continued on his way back towards the elevator.

“See ya at the meeting, Spine!” Rabbit called cheerily from behind him as he walked away. Shaking his head but smiling, The Spine waved back.

“I'll see you then, Rabbit.” And with that, he was entering the elevator again and leaving the building.

 

It was yet another three hours before he arrived at a warehouse hidden deep in the industrial district. It had been nearly two hours to get to Hatchworth's domain only to find a Syndicate member waiting to tell him that Hatchworth had left. Irritated, The Spine had decided to leave and go speak with Zero.

The warehouse was abuzz with busy Syndicate members moving around massive crates. Up in the foreman's office, The Spine could see the large figure of Zero through the small window. As he approached the door, he heard the voice of not one, but _two_ of his robot cohorts. Sighing and affecting the Face Of Very Fed Up With This Nonsense, The Spine opened the door and stepped into the foreman's office. The two bickering bots didn't even notice. Honestly, their bickering was overlapping so much that whatever it was that they were talking about was nigh unintelligible. The words “pigeon”, “pudding”, and “senpai” seemed to cut through, for some reason. The Spine cleared his throat. The bickering halted. At a pace that was almost comedically slow, Zero and Hatchworth turned towards The Spine.

“Oh, OH Oh hey, The Spine!” Zero said, brightening up and waving.

“Oh hi Spine.” Hatchworth waved as well. The Spine sighed.

“Hello Hatchworth. Zero. I suppose since you're uh, you're both here we can get this over with at the same time.”

“Oh! Are you here to check in, Spine?” Zero asked, his voice energetic as ever.

“That's right, Zero. I would've gone to Hatchworth first, but he _wasn't there._ ” He shot a look at Hatchworth, who only shrugged in response.

“It was important.” Hatchworth said. The Spine doubted that, based on the words he had picked out, but honestly he didn't want to know.

“So, uh, so are you just, checking in? Not gonna stick around this time? Get a drink?” Hatchworth asked, voice hopeful.

“I'm afraid I don't have time today, Hatchworth, but maybe at the _meeting_ in three days.”

“Oh. Okay. Well I'll definitely be there and then maybe we can all have a drink.”

“A big drink.” Zero offered.

“In a great big bowl!” Hatchworth continued.

“With bendy straws?”

“Bent into the shape of _friendship_!!”

“And then we can sh-”

“Alright! Enough! You can worry about that later,” The Spine cut them off, voice yeeting up yet again. “Look, you two seem to be uh, having a hell of a time out here so just, is everything going good? Operating alright?”

“Yeah, everything's great, The Spine!” Zero chirped.

“A-Okay, buddy.” Hatchworth gave a double thumbs up.

“That, that's great, guys. Zero, Tracy is taking Booth's place on the underground docks. I'll see you two at the meeting, alright? I'll just, uh, be going then, so you two can, uh, can get back to...whatever it was you were talking about.” The Spine's voice trailed off towards the end into a deep mutter.

“Okay, bye Spine!”

“See ya then!” The Spine waved over his shoulder before turning and leaving the room, closing the door just as Hatchworth had begun with “So as I was saying...” Dragging a hand down his face, The Spine heaved a heavy sigh and decided to make his way back to his office and, in conjunction, his home. Nearby there was an entrance to an abandoned subway line from where he could get to The Old City and make his way back.

 

The route The Spine had taken led to an entrance nearby the old docks. However, it also placed him such that the long abandoned amusement park now stood between him and the lift home. Normally, he liked to wander through it. It had been the site of a many a show, back in the day when he and his robot friends would play for the masses as the original Steam Man Band. Even now, he made sure that there were members of The Syndicate tasked with the upkeep and restoration of the park.

The park was massive, sprawling across much of the underground bank. A Ferris Wheel and a few roller coasters rose high into the cavern, although the weren't easily visible from any distance. A large and ornate merry-go-round stood at the centre of the park, acting as a guideline for the rest of the park's layout. The Spine made his way calmly through the grounds, every so often hearing the calls of Syndicate members in the distance either working on the docks or working on their current task – repairing the Ferris Wheel. The Spine sighed. The thought flit across his mind that he'd like to bring you to the park one day. Maybe even dust off the old instruments and play a song. That'd be nice, he thought.

Swatting at his own face, he attempted to shoo the thoughts away. However, he soon came upon an old ice cream stand and was suddenly recalling the walk in the park the two of you had shared. Groaning, The Spine picked up his pace towards his home. He had a problem. And it was growing.

 

The Spine arrived in his office quickly. It didn't take him much longer to ensure that the blinds were secure and the doors had all of their locks in place. Slumping in his chair, he covered his face in his hands. His thoughts were out of control. It was ridiculous, honestly. He hadn't even known you for that long so _why_ the hell where you affecting him like this? His mind recalled the walk again. Specifically the _damn_ ice cream you had gotten. He hadn't thought at the time that you eating ice cream would have been so...so... so _terribly arousing_ and here he was several days later thinking about it and being faced with a rapidly growing concern.

His pants were getting dangerously tight. With swift, fluid motions, he undid the button and zipper, reached in, and pulled out his massive metal cock. (Perhaps it was silly, referring to it as hard when it was already metal and therefore already hard, but it did have the ability to go between rigid and flaccid, so there was that.) The Spine set his hat on his desk and ran his hand through his hair as he began to stroke at his throbbing cock. His breath hitched. As his mind replayed the memory of your tongue lapping and swirling and _sucking_ on that goddamn ice cream cone, he began to imagine it was _him_ that had been the focus of your tongue. Fuck, he knew that this was unprofessional. But, it didn't matter at that moment. What did matter was the feeling of his hand pumping his shaft and his thumb circling his the head of his dick, spreading the blue-matter-waste-turned-pre-cum there around and helping to lubricate his hand as he began to pump faster. In his mind, he imagined it was you. That your tongue was licking at his cock and lapping up the pre-cum that had gathered at his tip. He didn't know if you could take his entire length in your mouth, so he imagined your hand wrapped around his shaft, stroking him as you took in as much of him as you could. You would moan, then, around him, the vibrations making his breath hitch. He let out a deep moan as he twisted his hand and ran his fingers along his cock, imagining that it was you licking a long stripe up the underside of his dick. He could feel himself getting closer. He imagined you, taking him back into your mouth again as far as you could and _sucking,_ a moan vibrating along his length as your hand pumped the rest of his shaft quicker and quicker as you heard him getting closer. His panting was becoming wanton, his strokes sloppy. He was moaning, and his free hand came down to cover his mouth and attempt to stifle his deep moans that were beginning to sound more and more like your name. His hips began to buck up into his hand as he got closer and closer to his climax. He was suddenly picturing grabbing your head, holding it down as he rammed into your mouth. Fuck, you would probably protest, but frankly it was his fantasy and he could imagine fucking your face if he damn well pleased. He instead imagined you relaxing your throat and letting him thrust into it over and over, his self control depleting exponentially as he looked downwards at your utterly debauched face.

Finally, his release washed over him. The Spine threw his head back and let out a deep groan as he came, and, as he imagined you swallowing his cum, he gave a final few pumps before letting the fantasy clear from his head. He groaned again and slumped in his chair, letting his hand fall to the side. His hair fell in his eyes, his chest was heaving, and a billow of steam released from between the plates on his neck.

When he finally gathered himself together enough to look at the mess he had made, he sighed. He'd have to get that cleaned up before someone found out. He put himself away and closed his pants and cleaned up after himself. As he did so, he berated himself. It was ridiculous after all. You barely knew him. He barely knew you. He was your boss and you were his assassin employee who was already betraying another crime lord. Besides, why would you want to have a relationship with a robot? Human – robot relationships weren't exactly welcomed warmly and frankly most assumed it was all a ken doll situation down there. There was no hope for a relationship with you. There was no point in getting his hopes up. Sure, he would still flirt with you, because he was just like that, but you? Interested in him? That was a laugh.

And yet, as he disposed of his mess and worked on convincing himself that you would never be interested, Rabbit's words echoed in his mind.

 

_Don't wait too long, Spine._

 

He sighed. Maybe...just maybe...

 

...well, he would see how things would go. Give it time. Who knew? Maybe it wasn't as hopeless as he was inclined to believe.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM SCREECHING BECAUSE AFTER I FINISHED THIS CHAPTER I REALISED THAT WE'RE FINALLY LIVING UP TO OUR TITLE BAHAHAHHAHAAHHAHAHA


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oof, sorry this took so long for me to get out, y'all. However, this fic is definitely still going! I hope you enjoy this installment!
> 
> A side note: I'm doing Inktober this year and it's already taking up a lot of my time. I'll try to get the next chapter up as soon as I can. Thanks for sticking with me, guys!

You awoke sexually frustrated and ready for the frustration to get worse. By some miracle of tenacity, you had persuaded yourself to hold back. Were you desperately wanting to pleasure yourself after that walk with your Devilishly Attractive Boss The Spine? Abso-fucking-lutely. Did you? No. Were you going to? _No._ Sure, you had gone home that night painfully horny and needing relief like you needed air, but when you had gotten up to your apartment, you had slapped yourself, gotten into a shower turned as cold as you could make it, and washed yourself down until you had calmed down enough to talk some sense into your terribly thirsty, horny self.

As the water had chilled you to your bones, you had berated yourself for letting yourself get so distracted. You were a professional, for fuck's sake! You couldn't be letting yourself get this distracted by One(1) Big Silver Man With A Big Fucking Dick. You had slapped yourself for that one, too. For fuck's sake, for all you knew it was just a weirdly shaped ken-doll situation! You had ultimately scolded yourself to the point that you felt like Okay. Alright. Maybe you _could_ get through this and get through that meeting without embarrassing yourself for being a thirsty ho. There was a meeting to attend! You could do this. You had this. Total composure. Absolutely. No problem. At All. You were going to be _fine_.

At least, that's what you'd been saying. However, you had had more wet dreams concerning him and his Hot Silver Ass TM and when you awoke on the day of the meeting, you found yourself just as horny as before. But hey, that was okay. It wasn't like the situation could get any more difficult. You could handle this. Sure, you would see him every so often and no doubt your thirst would skyrocket every damn time, but you could handle an occasional walk. Everything would be fine. You were sure. Absolutely fine. A little sexually frustrating, but manageable.

Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew you were just lying to yourself, but that part of your mind was going to shut the fuck up and let you do your job in quiet, frustrated peace.

As you took yet another cold shower on that morning, you heard the distant buzz of a call coming in on your work phone and rattling away inside your bedside table. Your heart skipped a beat and you frowned so deeply it was as though you were attempting the Face of Disappointment from that low-poly game with the teacher that gets angry at the player for not solving the 'math problems.' There was exactly no reason for your heart to have done that. Sighing, you finished your shower and wrapped yourself in a towel. You took a seat on your bed, opened the nightstand, and took out the hidden cell phone. It briefly flashed through your mind that perhaps storing it somewhere where it rattled so obviously would bite you in the ass one day, but then again, it probably wouldn't. You dismissed the thought. If the situation ever did call for a better hiding place, you could deal with it then. Flipping open the phone, you barely had time to register the one missed call before it was ringing again. The contact displayed was exactly who you expected. After all, only one person was supposed to be calling. You answered.

“Good morning, _____.” That goddamned voice washed over you like silk. You shut your eyes and inhaled deeply through your nose. In retrospect, there had been plenty of options to respond with. A simple 'good morning' back or a 'hello' would have been plenty sufficient. However, those weren't the responses you gave.

“Good morning, sir.” As soon as the words left your mouth, you felt your heart skip in shock and horror. The words themselves, you supposed, weren't incriminating in anyway on their own. What made your heart skip and throat tighten was the _tone_. ' _Fuck,_ ' you thought, ' _why don't I just fucking confess my thirst in gold writing an tape it to his face._ ' You slapped yourself. Fuck, it had sounded way too suggestive. However, you could've almost sworn you heard his swallow. Of course, you couldn't see what had happened on the other end. You didn't know that he _had_ swallowed an that he had also tugged at the collar around his neck before adjusting his hat nervously. A shame really, that you couldn't see him.

“Ah, Um, anyways, um.” You heard him stutter next. Oh no. Oh no he sounded flustered. O h n o.

“Yes?” Your voice had pitched up. You sounded... _coy_. Oh no. What was your dumb brain thinking. Actually no, it wasn't. It wasn't thinking at all. This was an error. A foolish mistake. Stupid. What were doing, flirting? Foolish! ...But at the same time, you could almost certainly hear his breathing hitch. You didn't want to admit to yourself, but you had file that faint noise away in your memory for... _future reference_.

“A-apologies. I, uh, wanted to remind you that the meeting is tonight. Will you be ready at eight o'clock this evening?”

“Oh, yeah. Yeah.”

“Wonderful. I will see you tonight, then.”

“I'll be ready.” You affirmed, hoping that there wasn't anything suggestive about that. You heard that insufferable chuckle again and found yourself suddenly very aware of the fact that you were still clad in only a towel. You heard the distinct click of the call being ended, and you hid the phone back in your night stand. You fell back on your bed, rolling your eyes. You needed to get over yourself. There was a meeting. _Tonight_. This was business, and you couldn't be allowing yourself to get distracted like this. You were a professional assassin! A professional! And you sure as hell didn't get there by allowing yourself to thirst all the damn time. Admittedly, you had never before met someone quite like The Spine, but the need to hold true to your professionalism needed to win out.

You steeled yourself, got dressed, and continued on with your day. When it was time to meet The Spine to go to the meeting, _you would be ready_.

 

Evening came and the time to meet The Spine to go to the meeting was nigh. As you stood by your door, fists clenched, you were certain of one thing: _you were very much Not Ready_. You hadn't seen him since that night two weeks prior. Your thirst had hardly subsided, and now, knowing that you'd be with him again in only a matter of moments, you were desperately trying to squash it back down. The cell phone rang and you answered it promptly.

“Good Evening, _____.” The Spine' smooth voice rang through the speaker. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yeah, Yeah I'm ready to go.”

“Excellent. I'll be outside in five minutes.”

“Alright, I'll meet you down there.” You heard the click of the ended call and put the phone away. Taking a deep breath, you headed downstairs to meet The Spine out front.

When you got out to the side walk, you only had to stand there for a minute before the sleek car that he had picked you up in before came barreling around the corner and pulled to a stop directly in front of you. You took a deep breath before walking up to it. As you neared, you heard the lock click undone, inviting you to get in the car. You glanced around discreetly before opening the door and sliding in. As soon as you had closed it, the car roared back to life and sped away from your home.

“So, how have you been, _____?” His voice washed over you after a few silent moments had passed. You shivered. It felt like it had been so damn long since you'd heard his voice in person and hearing it again only stoked the blaze of arousal that you couldn't quite seem to squash. You swallowed, trying to ease how suddenly thick your own saliva felt.

“I-I've been good, Spine.” Your mouth _felt_ like it was welcoming the feeling of his name running over your tongue and you gulped yet again, you eyes casting off to the side nervously. Looking away, you completely missed the mischievous grin that had crept over his face.

“Well, that's fantastic. I'm, I'm really happy to see you again, _____. Now, uh, in terms of tonight's meeting...” He trailed off, eyes focused on the road. You eyed him, waiting for him to continue.

“Well, uh, you see, had you been anyone else, I would, uh, need to blindfold you.” You heart suddenly pounded in your chest. An unbidden warmth raced downwards through your stomach. You frowned at your own stupid body and it's excessively horny reaction. However, as you were distracted, you failed to notice his heavy gaze trailing over your body. You could've sworn, however, that you felt sexual tension thicker than a congealed gravy settle in the car, but you shoved off the notion. There was no way, after all, that this gorgeous silver man would be thirsting for you. What absolute nonsense.

“However,” He had continued while you were still struggling to stifle your thirst. “There wouldn't be much point to that. You'll recognise the location, anyways. _And_ I think, uh, that I will want you to know where to go for, uh, future reference.” You didn't need to look at him to know he was smiling, but you had looked, like an absolute fool. He wasn't just smiling. His smile was _feral_ and the heat in your lower body flared. He turned his head back towards the road, his tongue darting out to lick his lips. Did robots really need to do that? Regardless, it was god damn _hot_ and you averted your eyes to the rapidly passing scenery immediately. You still didn't know where he was taking you and you desperately needed to focus on keeping a lid on your thirst. You were about one more glimpse of his tongue away from asking him to pull over so that you could find out what it would feel like against your own.

 

Sure enough, you started to recognise the route as you got closer and closer to the destination. Your suspicions were confirmed as the car parked in an inconspicuous alley behind your favourite bar. You got out of the car at the same time as The Spine. You looked over as you heard a sharp mechanical ratcheting just in time to see the stegosaurus fins emerge from his back and resume their normal position. The look he gave you told you to not make a sound as you followed him. His rolled his shoulders and stretched his neck, steam escaping from his joints, before he started walking forward.

As he walked, you noticed that his footfalls were alarmingly silent much like when he had sneaked on you in the Old City. It suddenly struck you again that he was indeed terribly dangerous. He had lulled you into a comfortable sense of safety, and perhaps that wasn't too bad so long as you were loyally on his side, but you were grateful for the wake-up call.

The Spine led you to the back door of the bar where he stopped and straightened his back, standing tall. You heard a whirring somewhere in or behind his eyes and the door clicked open. You creased your brow; Damon had once told you, when you were concerned about hitmen coming in through the back to take him out, that the back door was nigh unopenable to begin with. It was thick, heavy, bulletproof, and far heavier than absolutely necessary. On top of that, it was secured with a massive electrically powered lock. Perhaps The Spine had been fitted with something that allowed him to access the lock from the outside? He was a robot, so maybe that wasn't so far-fetched. Lost in thought, you nearly missed him swing the heavy door outwards and gesture for you to enter first. Once he had followed you in, he closed door and resealed it.

The back door connected to the kitchen. You could see a faint light in the main bar area, but aside from that, the entire building was completely dark. The Spine stepped forward, his eyes glowing, and led you forward. Once you had reached the main area, you spotted Damon leaning against the counter. No words were spoken, but he gave you a knowing look complete with a smug grin and a raised eyebrow. The Spine nodded towards him in greeting as Damon moved towards a wall in the corner and using his own phone's screen as a dim flash light. Reaching up, he pressed in a portion of one of the ceiling's support beams. You heard a series of ratcheting noises that were followed by Damon gently pushing open a segment of the wall and revealing a staircase that spiralled downwards. Wordlessly, you followed The Spine down the hidden staircase with Damon following behind.

After what was likely a good story or two, the staircase finally opened out into a large chamber that, although dilapidated, was lavishly furnished as an old nightclub. You immediately recognised that it must've been one of The City's lost speakeasies and a thrill went through you at the thought of standing in such a fascinating piece of history. However, you didn't have time to gawk. The Spine led you and Damon over to a table that was illuminated by a single operating lamp hanging over it. A complicated floor plan and set of prints were laid out on the table and, as you approached, you could see several figures standing around and waiting for the meeting to begin. The atmosphere suddenly weighed down you as though you were suddenly at the bottom of the sea. Damon moved to stand at a corner as The Spine took his place at the head of the table. You stayed nearby and finally took a glance around at your new cohorts.

You weren't sure what you were expecting, but somehow a table surrounded by an assortment of robots wasn't it. There were four of them, besides The Spine. One of them was feminine in design, tall with pink hair and a cute dress. Another was lanky and wore suspenders and seemed to stand at an oddly jaunty angle. Another stood rather straight and had a distinctive orange moustache. The last was large and had an unusual asymmetry to the panelling on his face. You looked down at the prints laid out on the table and recognised the structure as the City's Grande Central Theatre. Before you could think about what the implications were, The Spine set his hands on the table and began the meeting.

“Alright, let's get this meeting und-”

“Hey hey, hey. Hey, Spine. Hey.” The pink haired robot's cute voice cut him off. “Hey, Spine.” He sighed.

“Yes, Rabbit?”

“Aren't ya gonna, yknoow, in-in-introduce us to our new friend?” She asked, her hands coming to rest amicably on your shoulders as she smiled. Your instincts were on alert as her head came in close beside yours. Was she just naturally this friendly? The Spine shot her a tired and long-suffering look. Rolling his eyes, he addressed the gathering.

“As I was saying,” Rabbit didn't move her hands off of your shoulders. “let's get this meeting underway. To begin with,” He looked towards Rabbit again. “This is _____.” He gestured at you. “_____ is our new member and will be involved with this heist. Uh, please don't be suspicious of them. They are trustworthy and I would appreciate it if you guys can accept them as easily as I have. Damon is also their, uh, long- time friend. _____, These are the leaders of The Syndicate, and my friends. The one holding you is Rabbit, that's Hatchworth, that's Zero, and that one is The Jon.” He gestured towards the bots as he introduced them. “Now that that's out of the way, let's get to business. The heist will be at the Grande Central Theatre and it will take place duri- ...stop doing that.” The Spine cut himself off upon noticing that Rabbit had begun to softly babble at you, spouting nonsense about how cute you were and how nice your hair was and lowkey throwing shade at your poor outfit choice for the evening. She, in turn, froze and turned her head towards The Spine with a ratcheting noise with the rest of her body following bit by bit. You couldn't help but be fascinated by the way she moved and the noises her body made. You even caught yourself beginning to stare.

“Oh come on, Spine. They're a-a-a-a-a-adorable! We're friends now.” Her arms wrapped around you as The Spine sighed and gave a long suffering glare. “Hey, d-d-do you mind if I hold you? I d-d-DON't mean to overst-st-step my boundaries.” She asked you softly as The Spine shook his head and readdressed the rest of the group. “No, it's fine.” You gave her a small bewildered smile and she grinned and held you closer to her warm body in silent thanks as The Spine resumed.

“As I was saying, the heist will be at the Grande Central Theatre. In two months, the museum's fundraiser gala will be held there. The heist will take place during the gala.” You could see the Jon perk up.

“During the gala!?” The Jon's voice was over-dramatic but earnest.

“Yes, Jon. During the gala.” A melodramatic mechanical gasp was heard from the Jon. “The event is all-inclusive and will be attended by robots and humans alike. Therefore, it gives us the perfect cover to carry out the plan.” Dear god, you could not stop watching The Spine's fucking goofy-ass eyebrows dance around as he talked.

“But won't there be increased security?” Zero asked, his voice friendly if a bit nervous.

“That won't matter. Alr-”

“Hey S-”

“No more interruptions, Hatchworth.” The Spine snapped, his voice yeeting up. “Are we all clear on the date and location of the heist?” Nods and murmurs of affirmation sounded from around the table. “Great. Now, on to placements. Rabbit, you will handle the control centre. Jon, you will be on the roof. Zero, you will handle the transportation and equipment. Hatchworth and Damon, you will be in the crowd as intelligence and distractions. _____, you and I will be on the floor as well, initially. The heist itself, will be simple. Hatchworth, Damon, _____, and I will enter the gala and blend in with the assembly. Meanwhile, Rabbit will be ready at the computer with a watch on communications and surveillance. At ten o'clock, _____ and I will break away into the back and begin making our way towards the vault. Now, the vault is located five stories underground beneath the ballroom.

At ten, as _____and I begin our descent towards the vault, Jon will take his place on the roof. Your job is to work with Rabbit and disable alarms, doors, and cameras, and to find ways to keep the security detail as far away from us as possible. During this time, Zero will be preparing the central ventilation shaft and the maintenance tunnels to get the vault's contents out of the building as quickly and quietly as possible. Once complete, Zero will leave with the goods. _____ and I will return to the ballroom. Once we have returned, Jon, you will restore the systems and meet Zero to leave. From there on, _____, Hatchworth, Damon, and I will stay at the gala to keep up appearances before taking our leave and meeting Zero and Jon to bring the cargo to the Old Docks. Any questions?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhhh yeah. Uhm, what will, uh, Damon and I be doing while you guys are, uhm, doing all that?” Hatchworth spoke up immediately.

“You and Damon will remain in the ballroom, as it would be alarming if _all_ of us were to suddenly vanish. Your job will be to reassure and distract anyone who may have noticed our absence that nothing is out of the ordinary.” The Spine responded, annoyance tainting his smooth voice. “Is that all?”

“Aye-aye, buddy. We're all good.” Hatchworth saluted.

“EeYup” The Jon's lilting voice affirmed. The rest nodded in agreement as well, Rabbit's head nuzzling against you unintentionally as she did so.

“Good. Then this meeting is adjourned. I trust you all to, uh, make your preparations. We will reconvene three days before the gala for a status check.” Sounds of agreement once again resounded around the room. One by one, the assembly left the room, bidding farewell to everyone and giving pleasant 'nice to meet you's to you before taking their leave. Damon gave you a smile and a friendly pat on the shoulder before disappearing up the staircase.

Rabbit was the last to leave minus you and The Spine. She wrapped you in a warm hug that you returned. However, before she pulled away she whispered into your ear. “I'm so glad you've joined us. I look forward to seeing you ore often.” She winked as she drew back and you didn't miss the faintly mischievous tone that her voice had taken. With a cheerful goodbye, she took her leave with a spring in her step leaving you alone once again with The Spine. As he looked over the blueprints one more time, he spoke up.

“_____, do you know how to dance?” You were momentarily taken aback.

“Um, no. No, I don't.” You replied, confusion evident. The Spine's glowing green eyes shifted to look at you from the corner of his eyes as a smirk pulled at his lips. Your mouth ran dry. His expression was horribly delicious.

“You will have to learn before the gala.” His voice was soft but you could hear the underlying question clearly. You knew what he was saying.

“Am I correct in suspecting that you are willing to teach me?” You ventured. His smirk grew.

“Am I correct in assuming that you agree?” He asked as he stood to his full height with a slight waver and nod of his head that you had by then recognised as being so very characteristic of him. You smiled.

“Yes.”

 


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll explain where I've been for the last few months in the end notes but first of all, NO I AM NOT LEAVING THIS FIC. Anyways, bada bing bada boom, here's chapter 14 at LONG FUCKING LAST. I AM SO SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG. I'm also sorry that it's shorter than the last few chapters have been, but honestly I couldn't figure out how to get this one longer. So think of it as those weird paragraphs in books that are only like, one page long. In additional good news, Chapter 15 will also be out give or take a few days after this chapter!

The day after the meeting found you still panicked over the latest development in your bizarre double employment. Dancing? You were sure you could learn it easily enough, but it would’ve been a lot easier if you had just said that you would learn from someone else. Sure, you only had two months, but accepting The Spine’s offer to teach you was a decision you had soon come to recognise as a mistake. He had taken you home after the meeting, and during the car ride he had suggested meeting the following friday to begin learning.

You heaved a stressed and anguished sigh and ran a hand through your hair. Was it even really necessary? Surely, you would be able to get by without dancing, right? Expecting every guest to dance was an archaic expectation, wasn’t it? Apparently not, given that The Spine had asked you directly after the meeting. You had never done an operation that required you to be on the floor, either. You were finding yourself uncharacteristically nervous and anxious and as the sun began to set, you looked out of the window and wondered if Damon’s bar would be open. The smell of bleach had been gone the day before, so perhaps he was open again. You could use a few rounds. You had almost a week to contemplate the situation, and the sooner you could get over the anxiety, the better.

You arrived at the bar a few minutes before final call. You took a deep breath, the memory of the night before still replaying in your mind. Shaking your head, you made a beeline to your favorite stool with nary a glance in Damon’s direction. A mistake that you soon recognised when you raised your head to see him handing you your drink of choice with a grin that screamed mischief and gossip. Had you seen his face when you had entered, you would’ve stopped in your tracks, turned on your heel, and left.

“Damon.” You fixed a suspicious glare on him as he continued to be the very image of smug recognition. 

“_____.” He said in turn. You looked around, wondering if anyone was around to see his antics. You squinted. The bar was empty save for a few stragglers finishing their drinks in the shadowy corners. None of them showed any response to the conversation at the counter.

“They can’t hear us, even if they were sober. The way the ceiling is built cancels sounds from across the room. Besides, they’re on their way out.” You huffed in response. You supposed that explained why it always seemed relatively quiet here. Sure enough, the stragglers were indeed standing up and nodding their thanks as they walked out the door. Damon followed them, making sure they hadn’t forgotten anything. When the last one had left, he flipped the sign to read Closed.

“Alright.” You said, turning your gaze back at him only to find that his face was still terribly smug. “Goddamnit, Damon. What the hell is that face for?” 

“I think you know.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I’m pretty sure I don’t.” You suspected you actually did.

“You do.”

“Just spit it out, boy.” His grin only grew.

“It’s pretty obvious, _____. Not that I blame you, of course.” You  _  did _ know what he was talking about.

“Damon, shut up.”

“You are so valid, _____”

“Shut up.” You could feel your face heating up.

“Rabbit is really excited about it.”

“Damon, please.” You had taken to trying to hide your face with your arms.

“Jon and Zero think it’s adorable.”

“D a m o n,  p l e a s e.” You were begging him. He laughed.

“I think it’s no coincidence that he wants you to be by his side at the gala, y’know.”

“Sh!”

“What?” You looked at him panicked, and he raised a brow. You settled yourself down as you remembered that the bar was empty and that he hadn’t actually let anything slip.

“There’s nothing weird going on. It’s just a work thing.”

“Uh-huh. Just a work thing. Yeah. Totally.” You glared at him. “Oh, come on, _____. I know you too well and the bots know the boss too well. The tension is palpable.”

“There’s no tension.” You rushed out.

“Mmhm.” He paused to pour himself a drink. “Alright, alright. Tell me this, then. How’d you end up working with us? I didn’t know who you were looking for way back when, so I know your client wasn’t the boss. What happened? How’d you end up with us? Who were you working with before?”

You sighed. 

“When I walked in here back then, I had just been hired by The Beciles to take out the leader of The Syndicate.”

“Not to prod, but I doubt this was the sort of ‘taking out’ they meant, I imagine.” 

“I’m ignoring you.”

“Sorry, sorry. I couldn’t pass up the opportunity.”

“Uh-huh, sure. Carrying on. I went down to the Syndicate meeting that you had mentioned where...the, uh, boss...caught me. He grilled me about who I was working for and hired me as a spy.”

“A spy?” Damon looked pensive. You raised your brow.

“What’s up?”

“It’s just...Well...We  _ have _ spies. Maybe he figures you’ll be closer to  _ their _ leader.” You furrowed your brow. That was an odd detail. Why hire you if there were already other double agents in play? Why didn’t he dispose of you? You made a mental note to ask him. “And if you’re a spy for us, why does he want you on the floor with him at the Gala?”

“Damon, I fear if you keep on this train of thought we’re only going to end up with more questions.”

“Undoubtedly, but it is strange.”

“It is. I came here to relax, but now I have more questions than I ever intended to have.”

“Sorry. It’s just...It seems like a weird move for the boss to make.” Damon sighed, took your glass, and refilled both your drink and his. He took a deep breath as the glass clinked back down in front of you. “Whatever he’s thinking, I’m sure he knows what he’s doing. He always knows what he’s doing.”

“That’s...an ominous way to put it.”

“It’s true. I’ve only been around for one other heist and it was  _ art _ , it went off so smoothly. At the very least, you can be assured that you don’t have anything to be nervous about.”

“Hey Damon, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah? What is it?”

“Is dancing...a...necessary thing to know for a gala?” Damon raised an eyebrow.

“Um, generally? I don’t know. You’ll probably garner some requests but I doubt you need to be good. Why?”

“No reason.” You said into your drink. Why the hell were you going to learn to dance if it wasn’t even expected!? You had too many questions at this point and some of the answers were starting to tie together in ways that you were sure you were imagining.

“Mmhm.” Damon’s smug face had made a comeback and you sighed before tossing back the rest of your drink.

“Mmhm my ass, Damon. I’ll see you later.” You muttered as you stood up and prepared to leave the bar for the evening. Damon laughed.

“It was good seeing you, _____.”

“You too, Damon.” You smiled as you waved to him. He held up his glass in farewell as you left the bar. You made your way home slowly, enjoying the evening chill and allowing the remaining stress and confusion to fade from your mind.

 

As you slept that night, a different crisis was occurring elsewhere in The City.

“What. The hell. Was I thinking.”  Far above the city, The Spine looked out of his office window where he leaned on his forearm against the reinforced glass of the window. He had been musing, alone, in his office for well over an hour. Why the hell had he asked if you could dance!? He himself hadn’t danced in at least twenty years, so what did it matter if  _ you _ could? And then why did he offer to  _ teach _ you? It had been a fool’s move to have done so and he could have easily found some member of The Syndicate who could’ve taught you if it had actually been important to the mission.

That was the crux of the problem. There really wasn’t any need for you to be able to dance. You weren’t even going to be on the floor that long before you would be absconding with him to the vault. Definitely not long enough to get more than a few dances in, and that was if you were  _ trying _ to dance. 

The Spine dragged a hand down his face and released a puff of steam in irritated anguish. Maybe he was getting excessively distressed about the whole situation. He tossed back the rest of the clear liquid left in the glass on his desk, the chemical scent of it filling the office with the steam he was releasing. Sighing, he made his way to the middle of the office. Taking a dancing position, his arms around an imaginary partner, he began to hum. As he hummed, and even as his humming shifted into soft singing, he danced around his office, preparing to teach you when the following week came pounding at his door.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YALL I AM SO SORRY ABOUT MY ABSENCE. It started with me putting off writing this chapter, and then my computer broke down and had to be rebooted at which point I lost the entire document and notes for this fic, so that set me back. Then I finally copied and pasted everything that I've posted here into a google doc (bless my friend for pointing out I could use docs instead of an office program) so I did that and at that point I had to reread everything and figure out where in the pile of ideas I was at with this. BUT WE ALL GOOD NOW. I'VE GOT NOTES AGAIN AND I KNOW WHERE WE'RE GOIN AND WHAT WE'RE UP TO WE'RE GOOD. YEE HOO.
> 
> THANK YOU TO EVERYONE WHO HAS STUCK WITH ME! I LOVE Y'ALL QUQ


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ohohohohohohohohohohohohohohoho
> 
> Quick note: This chapter was originally planned to be longer, but I felt weird cramming as much as I had originally planned into it. That aside, there's some ohohohohohohohoho here so Yeehoo

The sun streamed through your window. In a daze, you dragged yourself from your bed. Fortunately, you hadn’t had enough to drink to be hungover, but you had slept in. You stretched and sighed your gratefulness that you didn’t have work that day. You indulged that morning, drawing a hot bath and lit a candle. 

“Self-care, right?” you muttered, relaxing into the hot water. As you felt the stress melt from your bones, you let your mind flit over the events unfolding in your life. The gala was still two months away. You hadn’t been asked to dispose of anyone in awhile, but you expected one of your two bosses to request a disposal soon. Would The Spine even ask you to dispose of anyone? Did he have hitmen? 

An unbidden thought sent a flood of heat coursing down your body. Did he...dispose of problems himself? And why did that excite you? You knew he was dangerous, but any idea you had about just  _ how _ dangerous was driving you mad with a new and sudden wave of lust. 

Wait, lust? No, no no no no no. Absolutely not. That was ridiculous! Pull yourself together, damnit. Don’t think about that, don’t think about how strong he is, of course he’s powerful, he’s a goddamn robot. Don’t think about him. Don’t think about his voice, you idiot. Goddamnit. Don’t think about his hands, or his long, skilled fingers. Or his body, or his size or the size of his dick, as much as you could guess, wAIT NO no don’t go guessing thAT, thAT IS NOT what you should think about. Stop, stop thinking about him! You were naked, you were in the bath. Stop thinking ab-

Your hand trailed down your naked body while your other and clawed down your face as you groaned in exasperation. Better to just get out of your system, maybe. You drew your legs up to give yourself better access as your hand reached the apex of your thighs. The dream you had had resurfaced in your memory. The vague memory of the image of his face between your legs came to the front of your mind. You groaned, this time in an agony of need. A need for  _ him _ . Damn the man. What right had he to be that attractive? 

Your finger delicately traced along the lips of your entrance, teasing yourself. In your mind, you imagined those damnably lithe fingers he had, even though your smaller hands couldn’t compare. A moan slipped through your fingers as you covered your mouth, your other hand beginning to slip a finger between your folds to start teasing your entrance and feel how wet you had gotten thinking about that silver man. You sighed, and relaxed. Your head fell back as the image of his devilish smirk from between your legs surfaced yet again in your mind and you slipped a finger gently into your entrance and then another. Slowly, you worked your finger in and out of yourself as you quietly gasped. You knew your fingers weren’t as long, but imaging they were his was only making you hornier.

“Please...please, Spine, faster” The quiet plea slipped unbidden from your lips. Did you really just fucking say that? Regardless, you began to quicken your pace, your fingers slipping in and out of your heat and feeling your walls contract inside of yourself. You moaned. Was that a soft “ _ yes _ ”? Not if you had anything to say about it (it was.) You were getting closer quickly. Your pace quickened as you felt your climax approaching.

In your fantasy, The Spine continued to pleasure you with his fingers as he came up to lean down next to your head, his breath whispering over your ear and neck. 

“That’s it. Come for me.” He rumbled, his deep mechanical voice reverberating into your body. You groaned, his voice, albeit imagined, being enough of a tipping point for you that your release crashed over you. As you rode out your own orgasm on your hand, you imagined him telling you how good you were. What a good, filthy, little whore you were for him. How good you did. Your eyes were rolling back into your head as your climax finally began to ebb away and you imagined that maybe he might kiss you, or withdraw his fingers to taste you. Could he even taste? God, that was not something you needed to be thinking about. 

Your heavy breathing was slowly subsiding. You sighed and withdrew your hand from your sensitive warmth. Were you going to acknowledge any of what you had just done?

Of course not. Pffft. Nothing happened. Ahaha, certainly not a moment of indulgence in a time of weakness in your resolve. Ahaha, no. Of course not. Aha. Ahahaha. 

You scrubbed yourself twice as vigorously with the washcloth, banishing the shame away. God, did you  _ really _ just fantasise over a robotic man? 

Silly question, since yes. Yes you did. But would it hurt to banish the memory away? No, you told yourself. Were you in denial over the fact that you were terribly attracted to him? Absolutely. Yes. But no one had to know. 

You huffed.

 

A few minutes later found you damp but clothed and making yourself breakfast in the kitchen. The early morning sunlight streamed in, casting your apartment in a soft orange glow. The delicious smell of your breakfast filled your apartment, and you sighed as you relaxed. 

And then, mid sigh, your reverie was shattered. Your work phone was ringing. This early? You furrowed your brow. Why the hell was Buster calling you this early in the morning!? Turning off the stove, you pulled out your work phone and answered.

“Good morning, _____.” The familiar voice practically oozed through the phone. You frowned.

“Good morning, sir.” Your voice was stiff, your body rigid. You really did not want to talk to him. Too bad you had to.

“Oh, _____. Always so formal. You can relax.”

“I wouldn’t think it appropriate, sir.” A laugh rattled through.

“One day. Do you have any news on my original request?”

“Very little as of the moment, sir.”

“Very little?”

“Very little. Inconsequentially so, even.”

“Well, damn. I want the leader out of the way as soon as possible, you know.”

“Yes, sir. I know.” You heard him sigh.

“Well, if there’s anything you need to help you, let me know. I  _ will _ do whatever I can to assist you, _____.” You really wished he would stop saying your name.

“Thank you, sir.”

“Of course, _____. I have...another...request...for you.”

“Yes, sir?” This is not the man who you would prefer to be calling ‘sir’. 

“Do you know about the gala in two months?”

“I’ve heard word of it.”

“Good, good. That’s very good to hear.”

“What about it, sir?” He chuckled.

“I want you to accompany me to the gala.” Your breathing stopped. Your heart skipped a beat. Shit. Goddamnit. Seriously!? Fuck, you couldn’t  _ refuse _ . If you did, he would see you there. Fuck. 

You knew what your options were. You couldn’t refuse because he would see you there. You couldn’t cancel on both of your employers. You knew what your best option would be. You cringed.

“Of, course, sir.”

“You don’t have to be so formal, _____. It’s primarily a social offering. There is a hit I would like you to perform there, but primarily, I just want some lovely company in the midst of a miserably stuffy affair.” 

“As you wish, sir.” You said, forcing your voice to be saccharine sweet. He chuckled.

“Wonderful, _____. Um, on the business side of this, there’s a man named whose profile I will send you. He’s only a thug in a lower level gang, he isn’t syndicate related. However, he  _ is _ causing me more trouble than I care for. He will be working as a busser at the gala. He will need to be disposed of there.”

“If I may ask, sir, why must this be done  _ at _ the gala?”

“He has been very difficult to locate. This is the first time in months that he has been easily located.”

“Would it be preferable for him to die at a location where we are not present?”

“Yes. Yes, that would be fantastic, _____.” His voice had become a purr. You rolled your eyes and cringed.

“That is good to know, sir.”

“Wonderful. So, I will call you when the gala is near to arrange when to pick you up. In the meantime, I would like to send you a dress or two, to choose from.” Your brow furrowed. What the fuck?

“Sir, that is, that is not necessary.”

“You stuttered, are you flustered? Ahaha, it’s settled. I will send you some outfits to select from. I can’t have you be on my arm and look subpar.” You had had no plans of looking subpar to begin with, but now you were insulted. In fact, you almost wanted to show up in rags just to humiliate him. What a proud bastard. You glared at your wall as though it were him. 

“I don’t mean to be brash, but it’s bold of you to assume I’d not be able to choose a suitable outfit myself, sir.” You bit your tongue as soon as the words had left passed your lips. You hadn’t meant to say that, but his condescending, patronising tone was driving you over the edge.

“Of course. I meant no offense. I merely meant that I’d like our outfits to be coordinated. I want everyone to know who you will have attended the gala with.” The last part was spoken in his slimy purr again, the sound of his voice  _ dragging _ over you like an auditory representation of a very large, very  _ slimy _ slug. But less likable. Slugs could be cute. Buster? There wasn’t a teaspoon of cute in him.

“I see. I apologise for my hasty admonishment, sir.”

“There’s no need for apology, you were right. I should’ve been clear from the start. That said, I’ll start sending outfits soon.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you, sir.”

“Wonderful. I wish you the best, _____.”

“Goodbye sir.”

“Goodbye. Oh, and _____?”

“Yes?”

“I do hope you know how to dance.” And with a soft click, the call was ended.

You stood there for a good few minutes, your food already cold. Almost on autopilot, you turned the stove back on to finish cooking your breakfast. God, what the hell had even just happened? Your food was done cooking, and you plated it before moving yourself and your food to the table to sit and eat.

Outfits? Was he serious? And  _ matching _ ones at that? There was absolutely none of that that you were even remotely excited about. Sure, maybe he’d send some nice, expensive outfits. But at the same time they were from  _ him _ and the last thing you wanted to be on your mind at any given time was what had he been thinking in choosing out an outfit for you.

Maybe you were being ridiculous. You chided yourself for being so dramatic, finished your breakfast, and cleared your dishes. 

Maybe you needed to take a walk.

Or a run.

Something. Something to take your mind off it, at least until you could call The Spine later with a clear head. 

You sighed for what felt like the umpteenth time that morning.

Getting changed, again, you headed out your door to run until the weird discomfort that your call with Buster had left in your stomach had finally subsided.   

 

You weren’t gone long, but when you had returned the slimy feeling had successfully left your body...for the most part. You huffed in frustration. Why’d he have to be such a creep? 

You spent the rest of the day relatively uneventfully. When the afternoon had at last sunk away and the world was cast in that soft orange glow, you finally glanced at your bedside table and sighed. You ought to call him soon. He needed to know.

It wasn’t until after nightfall as you were preparing your dinner that you finally got up the nerve to do it. Wait, nerve? What nerve did you need to contact The Spine? Pft, you were a professional assassin, this was nothing to be getting worked up over. However, you did feel like cooking might help to take the usual awkward edge off the conversation.

You pulled the phone from your nightstand and left it on the counter as you began making the soup. Soon, the delicious smell was wafting throughout your apartment and, had you not kept the phone close at hand, you suspected you likely would’ve forgotten about it entirely. Letting the soup simmer, you picked up the phone and called The Spine.

As the phone rang, your heart pounded. Every drawn out beep signified another moment in which you leaned against your counter rethinking how you would tell him about Buster’s latest assignment. Finally, just as you thought that he wouldn’t pick up, the line clicked.

“Good evening, _____.”

“I was almost certain you wouldn’t pick up this time.” He chuckled before he replied.

“I swear to you, if I ever fail to answer your call, it will be because I have found myself in a dire situation.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Laugh, if you want. I’m serious. I’ll never miss a call from you unless I am suddenly physically incapable.” Your heart thudded, but you brushed it off as anxiety regarding the still looming issue of Buster and The Gala.

“A...A little dramatic for a colleague, don’t you think?” You wanted to slap yourself for the breathless way you had spoken. 

“Maybe, but I think you aren’t just any colleague. Besides, I mean it.” His voice was softer and you almost couldn’t believe what you had heard. There was a beat before either of you spoke again. You broke the strange silence with a half chuckle, wanting to pull the conversation back onto stable ground so you could tell him your news. However, before you could think of something to dispel the tension with, he had spoken.

“Sentiments aside, you did call me. Is there a problem with something?” 

“Not so much a problem. There’s been a development.” You took a deep breath, grateful to be back on comfortable grounds.

“Tell me.”

“Buster called me this morning.”

“What did have to say?”

“It concerns the Gala.”

“The Gala? Will you have to be elsewhere?” You had to have been imagining things, but his voice took on a disappointed tone that had your stomach performing an olympic grade dive.

“No, no, I would still be at The Gala.” You thought you picked up a relieved exhale but yet again, you must’ve been imagining things. “There’s a hit he wants me to carry out discreetly there.”

“Oh.” He took a long pause. You could almost see him doing that little sway and nod he would do when he when he talked. An unbidden smile pulled at your lips. “Is that all, then?”

“No.”

“Hm.” Disappointment. Again. 

“He has asked I be his, um, date? Date. Date to the Gala. He asked that I attend with him, and he said he would be selecting an outfit for me.” You heaved a sigh. The whole situation still rubbed you wrong.

The other end of the line yielded no response. As the pause dragged on, you became more and more anxious. Had you said something wrong?

“Spine? Are you still there?”

“Hm? Sorry,” He gave a short, dismissive chuckle. “I was just, uh, thrown off for a second. Could you say that again for me?”

“Buster has requested I not only kill someone at The Gala, but also that I accompany him, and he’s going to send me an outfit. He also expects me to know how to dance.”

“Mm. I see.”

You raised your brow and wondered if he knew how you were responding.

“So…” He began, the word tumbling off his tongue in a slow drawl. “Can I make the assumption that we are still on for friday?”

You grinned, shaking your head.

“Yeah, yeah I’ll see you on Friday.”

“Excellent. I will see you then, _____. We’ll discuss the change in plans then.”

“Great. See you then.”

“Goodbye.”

“Bye.” You ended the call with a grin still present on your face. You hadn’t even realised how dazed The Spine had left you until the alarming sound of soup boiling over and sizzling on the stovetop shook you from your reverie.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: I can't dance!


End file.
